


Earth and Sky collide

by bouj525



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ark coffee house, Dropship Park, Eventual Smut, Exodus Art Gallery, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Grounders bar, Happy Ending, Polis University, Slow Burn, TonDC Bistro, protective bestie called Anya, protective bestie called Raven, so many references to S1 and S2 lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 93,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouj525/pseuds/bouj525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is the solid ground that allows Clarke to stand, and Clarke is the starlight illuminating Lexa's path.</p><p>They inexplicably want each other and all that's missing is a way to express themselves.</p><p>Modern AU, in which Lexa and Clarke meet after life screwed them up, and insist a little too much on a platonic relationship despite the accumulation of small details that keep proving them wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wildfire in the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more like an introduction than an actual chapter. More interactions to come.
> 
> TW: suicide implied, alcohol abuse.

Her eyes pierce the heavy suffocating smoke. She can hardly breathe and she’s not even close to the house. All she feels is the burning heat caressing her skin, the thin layer of sweat uselessly trying to cool off her body.

Flames are eating this place alive, not giving it a single chance to protect itself. They fly right toward the edge of the sky, not bothering to stop when they collide with the powerful water jet controlled carefully by the firemen and firewomen.

Fire lives for destruction, nothing more, nothing less.

Her tears are dried as soon as they leave her eyes, for the atmosphere has transformed to a living hell. She listens to the subtle kind of chaos, unable to move forward, frozen in front of the warmest type of glow.

Many people are calling out names, ordering their loved ones to move away from there. Wind grows stronger, blowing into the mess, as if it was trying to feed the blaze. Trees are desperately trying not to be broken by the ongoing war between the elements. And a single house is burning violently, its memories of a peaceful existence sparkling down to ashes.

She watches everything, eyes wide open, dust cutting her face, and remains silent.

Slowly but surely, the fire defies the world. It is confident. It knows that those people don’t stand a chance, that they can only watch as death claims a new territory.

Shadows surround her, and soon enough, the moon stares down at the show, imperturbable, saying farewell to a place it used to cast its light on through the night.

The smoke is still suffocating her, and her throat hurts as the irritating air hardly reaches her lungs.

She thinks she hears someone screaming her name in the distance.

She looks over, but doesn’t see anyone.

She’s lost.

Lost in the past, when that house was full of joy, when happiness filled it everyday, reminding her it was the king of the castle. When the smell of fresh baked chocolate chips cookies would make her drool as soon as she’d step in. She’s lost in moments of bliss, like whenever the improvised pool would welcome her as she’d splash around carelessly, or whenever she’d sit on the roof, observing the almost invisible stars decorating the night sky.

And mostly, she’s lost in the shadow of her loved one, of her presence by her side, smiles permanently stuck on both their faces. She’s lost in laughs and smiles and playful punches on her shoulder. She’s lost in the feeling of another hand gently stroking hers, soft skin brushing against each other. She’s lost in heated kisses, lips owning hers without hesitation, tongues dancing in harmony as the world would be forgotten.

Now everything’s falling apart.

She glances around, breaking free from the pull of the now gone past. It feels like she’s being awakened from an unpleasant trance. She coughs. She can’t breathe. It’s too much to bear.

A part of her wants to move toward the fire too, wants to be combusted. She wants to be burn, be turned to ashes, before the panicked eyes of the firefighters as they would try to save her, only to realize it’s too late.

She can’t stay there, useless spectator of a disaster. She wants to be inside that house, with the one person she knows is trapped in. Or maybe she doesn’t want that. It must hurt to burn alive. But it is surely something she needs at the moment. Perhaps burning alive does not hurt as much as the way her heart is being shattered to pieces right now.

She had always wanted to be part of _her_ world. The world she had never really been a part of. The world she wanted so badly to understand, but was never given the chance to. She had always known her girlfriend’s smile was nothing but a game of pretend, a beautiful illusion to decrypt. Deep secrets were hidden under the multiple “I’m fine” and “I’m happy”, secrets always slightly out of her reach. The cries for help never reached the surface. Help was not something her girlfriend would ask for. She would put on that perfect mask and fool everyone.

The wind almost throws her balance away, interrupting her thoughts, but not quite. She stares ahead as the left wall of the house crumbles and falls flat to the earth.

Everything she was told, everything she witnessed, was a planned, calculated lie.

No, she thinks, not everything.

The multiple “I love you”s and “I care about you”s whispered in the most secretive tone were too real for this world. Those words came from beyond, from a land of honesty and mutual trust. A world she had thought would have allowed her to see through the masquerade. It seemed she had been wrong.

“We found someone!”

She doesn’t even glance up at the voice. She simply keeps her eyes on the emptiness ahead. She knows who they found. There can only be one person to save.

Scratch that, there can only be one body to find.

She feels sick.

She puts a hand on her mouth, trying to fight the sudden urge to throw up. A white sheet covering an indistinct shape lying on a stretcher is all that is rescued from the disaster. She knows life is no longer part of this body. Now, it’s just a group of atom fitting imperfectly together, waiting to be eaten away by time.

She knows nothing can be done. She feels it in her bones, her soul, the deepest parts of herself. She sees it in the eyes of the paramedics who don’t even move in the direction of the victim. She hears it in the whispers of the men and women fighting the fire. She smells it by the scent of burned skin and scorched limbs.

“This accident must have occurred when she was sleeping…”

She glares at the reporters talking together, curses them. Her house is not a fashion show. It is not a hockey game, a football mid-time show or a movie premiere waiting to be commented. The victim is not a nameless human, a dead body that only belongs in a small corner of the news. She wants them to leave. She wants them to stop commenting on the tragedy that is taking roots in her heart like it does not matter. Her lover deserves better than that.

They don’t understand the situation. They don’t know the person she lost tonight will haunt her forever. They will be gone tomorrow. They will be interested in new problematics. They will have new tragedies to cover. They will smile at their family when they arrive home later that night. They will keep writing, and keep being paid, and the earth itself will not stop moving, and time will not stop running.

They will be able to move on. She won’t.

She already knows she won’t.

She already sees herself, insomniac, sleepwalking inside her new place, calling out for rest that will never come. She imagines herself, walking endlessly in busy streets with no destination to reach, an invisible ghost to every other person. She pictures herself avoiding specifics places, songs, movies, tv shows, sports, just because the thought of enjoying them alone seems as possible as surviving in space without the appropriate protection.

She is surrounded by fire, and she feels as if she is drowning in a bottomless ocean.

She knows how wrong the reporters are. She wishes, oh how she wishes they were right though. It could be an accident. It could be something related to the wires twisting inside the foundations of the house. It could be someone who forgot their half lit cigarette on their lawn. It could be the fault of the dysfunctional oven they were supposed to have replaced two months ago. Really, it could be anything that isn’t what she is thinking about. Anything would be better than what is on her mind.

But it is not, and she is not foolish enough to lie to herself.

The person inside was not sleeping. That person was probably staring outside as the sparks grew behind her. She probably had one hand on the doorknob, hesitation marking her eyes as she’d be torn between staying and going. And she probably had the other hand holding a lighter or an empty pack of now burned matches.

 The person inside wanted it. She wanted it even though the girl watching the flames had told her so many times she would never let her go. The person inside had never wanted any help. She had never asked for it. All she had desired was to be left alone whenever she would have had a problem. She would not have shared her troubled thoughts.

_But I was hers and she was mine. I should have known. I should have seen through her mask. I should have broken those boundaries she’d put between us. I should have acted._

_I should have been there for her._

_I should have been enough for her._

_Why was I not enough for her?_

The smoke rises higher in the sky, clouding the neighborhood like a funeral march.

She still can’t tear her eyes from the bright yellow and orange monster.

“Lexa!” The voice she thought she had heard rings like a church bell. “I came as fast as I could!”

She feels arms circling her body and she is pulled in a tight embrace. She’s not the one to accept such a display of affection, but she doesn’t care this moment. All she sees are the colors of hell.

“Anya…” She barely registers her own voice. It comes from too far away.

“I’m here, Lexa, I’m here.”

But, Lexa thinks, _she_ ’s not.

The one person that matters is not here. Not anymore. She won’t ever be there.

“She was inside.”

“I know Lex, I know…”

Her best friend’s presence doesn’t ease the pain.

She realizes everything she ever took for granted is a lie. Love is not enough to keep someone alive.

Love is not enough to protect her from tragedy.

Love is weakness.

***

It’s barely dark outside and the streets are surprisingly empty. The moon is not up yet, but the cold wind of the evening slowly conquers the neighborhood. The girl is alone and wanders lifelessly around the different houses. She sighs loudly. She doesn’t have the energy to walk, but her car is being held in hostage by her mother until she promises to never almost crash it in a tree again. 

To her credit, she had not been drinking. She had simply being distracted by the wandering hand of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Of course, she would never have admitted that to her mother, so she had invented some stupid story about miscalculating the time it would have taken to eliminate the alcohol from her system.

Now thinking about it, she should have just told the truth. Maybe her mother would have been more merciful with having car sex than driving drunk.

The girl has been doing a lot of stupid things recently, but drunk driving would never be one.

Her ocean eyes are dull when she finally reaches her apartment. She searches for her keys and unlocks the door, throwing her bag at the floor carelessly. She notices the lack of light first. Her roommates are absent, and the silence is deafening. She walks to her messy bedroom and changes to sweats, ignoring the pile of dirty dishes that threaten to fall from her desk. She closes her door and makes her way to the living room.

She just spent the day half listening to her teachers and fighting the urge to close her eyes, and all she wants right now is to crash in front of the television and die there.

She turns on the television and crashes in the couch. She sighs, almost in pain, as she gets up again and grabs the bottle of vodka from the superior shelf to her left.

Her new best friend.

She takes a sip, winces at the taste and lies down. She barely registers what the people in the show are saying. She’s too busy pondering her past day, week, and even month. She knows she shouldn’t be doing that. Her medical education had taught her that rumination inevitably lead to the release of stress hormones, which really wasn’t all good for her mind and body. She doesn’t care.

She knows she hasn’t been taking care of herself. Truly, anyone could see it, with the way her eyes almost close automatically from the lack of the sleep, the way her clothes faintly smell dirty, and the way her blonde hair appear to lose their bright color. Her voice is raspy, tired, exhausted, and when she moves, it looks like she’s portraying a character in slow motion.

She would be a terrible actress.

She keeps thinking about her day and yawns. The only reasons she still drags her lazy ass out of her apartment is because she doesn’t want to start her whole semester again, and because she needs to work. Not asking her mother for money is her sole motivation. Well, that and the fact that her roommates have forced her to socialize a minimum.

She doesn’t understand why ‘clubbing and sometimes having sex with random boys and girls’ doesn’t fall in the acceptable way of socialization.

At least it meant going out of the house.

It should be an acceptable form of socialization, she judges, because she interacts with people, and even gets to see them naked. This is basically the peak of socialization.

But after she had spent days at a stranger’s house and worried her friends to death, she had stopped.

She turns off the tv, nothing is interesting, and she’s rather concentrate on the way vodka feels in her throat. She alternates between drinking straight from the bottle and mixing it with juice, so that the taste doesn’t make her sick too fast.

She’s way past the drunken state by the time she notices it.

A heavy trail of black smoke, dividing the sky right in the middle.

She narrows her eyes. She can’t see well from the living room’s window, but the trail is large enough to indicate a large fire incident. Whatever is burning, it’s doing it fast. Her senses are biased by the alcohol, but she still hears the faint sound of the firetrucks racing toward the blaze. She assumes it comes from a farther neighborhood.

Well, then, it is none of her business.

She turns her attention back to the bottle just as the two other occupants of the house join her.

“C.” Octavia’s voice reaches her ears. “It’s the third time, in four days, that we come home and you’re almost puking on the couch.”

Raven quickly steals the bottle from Clarke’s hand as Octavia delivers her usual speech about why drinking is the last thing the blonde woman should be doing.

“Almost.” Clarke slurred answer escapes.

Raven doesn’t take any chance this time, and she empties the bottle in the sink, under the mortified look of her friend.

“Rae!” Clarke moans. “O, do something!”

Octavia rolls her eyes. She understands Clarke’s situation, but it doesn’t give the right to her best friend to poison herself every night. She was 500% on Raven’s side this time. She sits next to Clarke, lets out a sigh and stares down at the half passed out student.

“We really need to do something about you, Griffin.” Raven stands in front of her. “Get up.”

“Don’t. She’ll throw up for sure.” Octavia intervenes. “At least she’s not having anyone over this time, it’s a good day.”

Raven looks pissed. They have been playing this little game for too long. She has allowed Clarke to be lazy and self-destructive for a while, because that was what the girl needed, but now, Raven really wanted her best friend back, not simply a shell of who that used to be. It has become nothing more than pathetic.

She misses the days when she would come home and find leftovers carefully wrapped for her in the fridge, or when she would find Clarke and Octavia playing some stupid video game and she would jump in front of the screen. She misses the way Clarke used to laugh her lame jokes and the way she would playfully slap her shoulder whenever the blue eyed girl would be pretending to flirt with her. She misses Clarke’s impulsive joy and violent motivation to change the world.

Raven sits on the floor in front of Clarke’s bowed head. She really hopes the blonde won’t choose that moment to throw up, because that would make her a direct victim. She takes the risk nowadays, because her words need to get through.

“Clarke. Get up. You’re going to bed.”

Clarke ignores Raven’s words and even pretends to be snoring to add effects to her rebellious behavior. She truly believes she’s a ferocious lion ready to jump on her prey, but only manage to make a slight noise.

“Stop pretending you’re badass when I could throw you by the window and lock you outside.” Octavia rolls her eyes.

“Friends don’t say that.” Clarke’s weak voice mumbles.

“Bellamy said it.”

“Bellamy’s your brother.”

“Friends don’t let other friends slowly fade out from the planet.” Raven suddenly snaps. “You get your ass off this couch or I’ll drag you myself!”

Just to prove her point, she grabs Clarke’s hand and proceeds to move the girl as far from the couch as possible. She manages two steps before Clarke pushes her away and crawls back to the precious furniture item.

Raven is furious. Clarke is her best friend, and the most reliable person she has ever known. She has been there through Raven’s worse moments, and there was no way the mechanic student would ever give up on her. She had given up on her own mother in the past, but Clarke was not going to become an alcoholic, not under her watch. She would send her on a deserted island before she even allowed that to happen.

Octavia looks at the duo. Sometimes she felt like the third wheel in between whatever relationship these two had. Tonight is no exception, but it doesn’t matter. As much as she wants to help Clarke cope, she knows Raven will find a way to have the final word. She admires the girl.

Clarke weakly throws a cushion at Raven’s head. Raven throws it back with twice the force and Clarke pretends to be hit fatally.

“Tell my mom - Ugh, fuck, don’t tell her shit.” Clarke resigns with her hand pretending to grip her heart.

“Knocked out!” Octavia chuckles under the severe stare of the third girl.

Clarke passes out during the two minutes she has been pretending to die, and the Blake woman helps a tearful Raven to move her to bed.

They watch her for a moment, making sure she won’t wake up soon. Raven exchanges unspoken words with Octavia and goes back to the living room. They take turns to look after their sleeping beauty, both giving up on the idea of having a full night of sleep.

They always do that whenever they find Clarke in this state, and it never bothers them. They know how comforting a familiar presence can be when one wakes up the following morning of an alcohol overdose.

Clarke never sleeps well when she drinks. She has eerie dreams about the universe above their head, and it makes her twist in her bed relentlessly. She wakes up too early, with a killer headache.

It’s a little past three when blue eyes look at the world again. Octavia is reading next to her, but stops as soon as she sees Clarke awake. She wordlessly passes her an aspiring and a glass of water, a ritual that has become a bit too familiar to both their liking.

“Raven hates me.” Clarke whispers, and even her voice is enough to make the pain triple.

Octavia shakes her head.

“It’s happening less.” She says.

It’s true. Despite the three past days, Clarke has been drinking less and less. In fact, she rarely drinks that much anymore. She usually has long periods of abstinence. She just relapses in a pattern whenever something comes up. And those patterns are less frequents than before.

“It might have been three times in four days,” Octavia explains, “but it’s the first three days in two months. You’re doing great, C, really. And you know, you KNOW, your drinking abuse never lasts more than four days. Soon you’ll be back on your feet.”

Clarke knows Octavia is right, but the guilt is eating her out. She wishes she didn’t have such an urge to drown her problems in alcohol. At least, she comforts herself when she compares it to how she used to be.

“Raven knows it too.” Octavia adds.

“I’ll be back.” Clarke says as she stands difficultly.

She fights the urge to vomit as she walks to the living room. She sees Raven sleeping on the couch and the guilt increases. She knows Raven isn’t sleeping in her room, which is situated farther from her own bedroom, because the girl wants to be ready to help Clarke if Octavia falls asleep and the blonde gets sick in the middle of the night.

She pours herself another glass of water. She still can’t fully walk straight and almost bump in every piece of furniture. She notices Raven’s eyes fluttering at the noise, and hopes she didn’t wake her up.

The girl deserves to sleep.

She glances by the window as she turns back to her bedroom. The trail of smoke is gone. She remembers how impressive it was, and how high it reached in the sky. She remembers the blackness tainting the already night sky and shivers.

She hopes whoever was in the burning place got away safely.

She sneaks back to her bedroom to an exhausted looking Octavia.

She thinks about Raven’s words and silently makes a contract to get herself back up.

She feels thankful for her friends. She’s doesn’t know where she’d be without them, but she certainly knows it wouldn’t be in the comfort of her bedroom. They have always been there to support her, through the ups and downs, not matter their amplitude.

Her two best friends are the reason why she had given up the one night stands and stayed at home instead, and they were also the reason why she was in a much better place than the one she’d been before.

They protect her from possible tragedies.

Love is strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: I don't know


	2. I don't know

**I don’t know**

Clarke closes her eyes. She might not be able to turn off the distant motor sound, the faint roaring of the engine and her friends’ voices that are coming from everywhere at once, but at least she can find shelter in the dark. She tries to calm her racing heart, but the adrenaline running through her body makes it impossible. Her senses’ sensibility is multiplied.

She’s so concentrated that she doesn’t realize how much time passes, and the next thing she knows, she feels wind slapping her face and blonde hair dancing around. She needs to open her eyes and gets back to reality. She’s standing at the edge of the celestial sphere, this is the worse time to be distracted.

She stares at the horizon, the infinite sky welcoming her in its arms. She feels the cold on her skin despite the bright sun above. The wind is stronger than before, and the weight of her clothes feels amplified. The weather is perfect, and the clouds are small dots of marshmallow in the vast emptiness. It feels strange, being above the white puddles.

She feels alive.

Up here, nothing else matters beside the perfect control of her body. There is no one to tell her to get good grades, no one to tell her to eat carefully and follow the rules. There is no one pressuring her to go to graduate or to follow her head rather than her heart. It does not matter anymore.

She nods at the little voice in her head that tells her it’s probably a bad idea. It is, no doubt about it, a terrible idea.

She keeps her eyes focused ahead, looking straight in front of her. She won’t look down, she repeats to herself like a mantra. She won’t look down. She won’t look down. She won’t look down.

She looks down and her heartbeat rockets to the moon.

She can’t do this, she thinks. The ground is far, so far away that the little houses looks like lego pieces spilled across the land. So far that the rare cars she sees are tiny ants. The few trees are dispersed around the land, and observe silently. The wind blows at her face, and she’s convinced she will be carried away far from where she needs to go. The atmosphere is heavy, and she’s afraid it’s the beginning of the end.

All she sees is a gigantic cemetery, separated from her by nothing but thin air.

She’s alone. She’s the last one remaining, and the small figures floating around her are not enough to comfort her. She sees them falling after all, not quite floating yet.

She’s the last one standing. Well, not standing, more like kneeling on the vibrating piece of metal under her. She knows the next step. She opens her mouth, lets out a powerful scream.

Clarke jumps and falls from the sky.

***

Lexa’s hollow eyes open slowly. Like every morning, she is slapped in the face by the realization of where she is, and the reasons why she is guarded in such a place. She’s away from the big city. She’s in a big building lost in the country side, in the middle of nowhere.

Doctors say she’s just damaged. They keep repeating that she’s going to get better, even though Lexa knows very well that can't get better, because she already feels good enough. They repeat that she can heal, despite the girl insisting that there is nothing to heal from. They say she only needs a few more weeks here, secluded in this cold, unfamiliar and unwelcoming white room. Just a few more weeks, and she will be done with all of this.

Done with the constant murmurs from the doctors and nurses saying things about her condition.

Done with the whispers of people crawling in these large dull hallways.

Done with the pity looks everyone gives her whenever their eyes meet hers.

Done with the familiar “bip” reminding her of the steady very much alive beating of her heart.

Just a few more weeks, and she will be able to give farewell to the place that reminded her so many times that she had survived the car accident that threw her in this unfortunate situation.

She hates this place and the way it suffocates her urges.

She lies to them, the doctors. They claim to be able to save people’s lives, but they can’t do more than look into her eyes and pray for the meds to do their job. They look, attempt to analyze while noting unreadable sentences. She believes they don’t really see anything. They give her pills. They hope it will be enough.

It’s not entirely their fault. They went to med school to help people like her, but somewhere along the road, corruption caught them, with its money signs tattooed everywhere.

She’s physically sick and mentally exhausted. She tries not to be, but she feels irrationally pulled down the rabbit hole.

'Feeling exhausted' is enough for the lab coats people to keep her locked here. They don’t have time to look under those walls she’s built. They are probably more scared than her, because they don’t know what they can find behind that fortress, whereas she lives with her demons everyday. They probably suspect they would lose any battle if they tried to confront whatever’s hidden in there, in her heart. So in order to keep their power, they give her more pills. Again, over and over, until she comes close to lose her mind in them and forget her own identity.

She won’t forget anything.

She won’t let her thoughts disappear just because she’s been saved from a car crash. Who said she wanted to be? She surely did not.

However, let one thing be clear, she did not try to kill herself.

The only thing she knows is that the car came way too fast at her. She did not have time to move out of its way, so she did not. She could have, but the speed at which she would have moved would have not been enough to avoid the collision. She figured she might as well just stay and wait.

But the witnesses did not agree. They kept saying she had enough time to move, that the car, in fact, was visible enough to realize it was not safe to cross the street at this specific moment. They convinced the paramedics at the scene that it was a deliberate act, and even Anya, the friend she had just had coffee with, decided not to argue.

Traitor, Lexa used to think while rolling her eyes whenever the blonde woman would come to visit her, bearing gifts of all sorts.

Lexa almost laughs at the stupidity of those theories. She has no desire to end her own life.

The doctor had taken no chance and had her admitted in the closest psychiatrist hospital as soon as they had fixed all apparent physical wounds.

She has been staying there for the past month. She can’t wait to get out.

She looks outside the window.

The sun is bright, and the world is so angelic that Lexa can't help but get lost in the landscape. The ground is flat, made of crops and valleys. Green contrasts with the birght blue, and it feels like the meeting of two different universes.

She looks up and her breath catches in her throat.

She wishes she could be as free as whoever is falling from the sky, attached to the bright blue parachute that is decorating the blue emptiness.

***

Lexa walks inside the Grounders bar like she owns the place, which she almost does, considering her uncle Gustus is the owner. She feels attractive, powerful, in her black short dress and red lips contrasting her darker style. She feels like she’s back in a game she never even knew she was a part of.

It had taken her months to even look at a bar. She had avoided them like the plague, afraid of who she might see there, who she might have to interact with, and who she would make the mistake to go home with.

She has no interest in random sleeping around. She does, however, have physical needs, and it was the only reason she had started to come to here.

She looks around. The music is loud, so loud her ears are buzzing. She lets it surround her. Tonight, once again, she’s lost in the moment. She can’t remember how many times she’s been here in the past weeks, but she is certain everyone knows her by now. She doesn’t need to remind them her uncle owns the place anymore.

Gustus had been kind enough to welcome her when she needed refuge from the numerous pity looks she received from her parents, along with the paranoid glances Anya would send her, always treating her like a fragile porcelain doll.

The music is blasting around her, and takes over her senses. She dances around a few minutes. She knows the way the night will unfold on the back of her hand. She will wake up, the next morning, alcohol torturing her system and feeling her whole body aches in the best and worst ways. She will realize, painfully, that she is truly still alive, that she still has all those receptors telling her to be careful about herself.

She will feel alive, in the most horrid way, but she will never regret staying up all night, getting wasted on all the wrong choices thrown at her. She deserves the pain, any kind of pain.

She sees her favorite bartender, Echo, signaling her.

“The usual?” Echo smirks.

“Yes please." She gives a slight nod.

Lexa’s voice is tired. So unbelievably tired that she does not try to hide it anymore. The only thing she needs right now is her poison, the magical liquid that is able to erase _her_ constant shadow hovering over her head. 

It has been seven months since the hospital accepted to set her free, almost since that fateful night, and it is still the only way she knows to deal with reality. She can’t think of anything else but the flames, the body, the smell of burnt skin.

She has been haunted for a long time now, and she is slowly learning to survive with it. She thinks too much. She can’t let those negative thoughts fills her mind too long, or she will be consumed alive. She doesn't want to end up the same way her girlfriend did.

“Be careful, come back for water later.” Echo says, pushing shots and one glass of a green cocktail toward her.

She always says that to Lexa. She can’t help it, the girl doesn’t even make an effort to look alive anymore.

“You know it.”

The bartender shakes her head slowly.

"I'm serious. Gustus is worried about you, and Anya made me promise to take care of you."

"I do not need anyone to take care of myself." Lexa replies.

Echo sighs. She knows that, by the end of the night, she will have to help a confused and crying girl upstairs. She is called away by a group of clients, and by the time she comes back, Lexa is nowhere to be seen. The liquor is gone from the glasses, as if it was never there in the first place.

Lexa dances. She used to be the awkward nerd at school who couldn't decrypt the mysteries of the word 'fluidity', but now she is a queen on the floor.

She moves her body in harmony with the music, surprisingly coordinated with the melodies despite her blood being soiled by alcohol. She feels good. She saw Lincoln a few minutes ago heading toward the bar, and it was her signal to go to the dance floor. She won’t support the disappointed look she is sure to receive from him if he sees her.

He is a good friend, really, he just reminds her of a past life.

She rejects a few men courageous enough to approach her. She might be slightly drunk already, but she will never be wasted enough to allow men to touch her. Some things will never change. The first one being the pain permanently being hosted in her mind, and the second being her attraction for the female population exclusively.

“What’s your name?”

The voice is loud and clear, and directed at her. Lexa’s green eyes meet the blue ones of a blonde girl dancing next to her. Her own voice can’t move past her throat, and she stares at the stranger for longer than she means to.

The girl with the bluest eyes stares back for a moment before a smile finds its way to her mouth.

The color reminds Lexa of the one from that parachute she saw, months ago, and she shivers at the memory.

The stranger has this playful look in her eyes, like she knows exactly how to act her part. They are two actresses, part of the same scene, with an inevitable conclusion to the play. They both know they will end up together by the end of the night, no matter how many strangers they interact with in between, no matter how many drinks they decide to have, no matter how many times they lose one another in the crowd.

Lexa feels like this mystery person is not only looking at her, but also seeing through her. It takes her only a few minutes to realize that maybe they’re both alike, maybe they are both not here to find their one soulmate, and fate brought them together.

“What if I have no intention of telling you?” Lexa replies after a few minutes.

 “That’s fine”, the blonde answers, “I guess I have the night to find out, don’t I?”

Lexa nods. Words are useless as they move side by side. Their bodies gradually find each other, and soon enough, they move as one as a sensual duo alone in the middle of this artificial paradise. The only thing that makes sense at this moment is the way Lexa’s hands slowly brush against the girl’s hips, and the way her lips are close, so close, too close, to her neck.

Time passes, and as expected, they part way, interact with too many irrelevant strangers, drink too many cheap liquids, and lose one another more than once. And as expected, they end up bumping into one another, Lexa being too drunk to walk properly anymore.

She gets trapped in the shades of electrical blue fixated on her. They see right through her, through the game she’s playing. They dig inside of her, deeper than anyone ever has since the incident, and Lexa knows that she is giving this stranger access to everything she has been trying to hide.

“You are beautiful.” Lexa somehow manages to let out in her drunken state.

The words are slurred and sound uncertain, but their echo resonates long after.

A smile appears once again on stranger’s face, and Lexa is soon pressed against her as their bodies dance together slowly. She’s not sure how close she wants to be to this dangerous attractive human being. She knows she can’t be too close, but the woman keeps pulling her with the strongest gravity pull, and Lexa cannot resist.

“And I’m surprised I’m not the drunker one here for once.”

The words are tainted by a confident, playful tone, and Lexa blushes. Her green eyes try to focus on the face of her dance partner while her hand slowly slides from the woman’s shoulder to her waist, stroking her back on the way. She moves closer, afraid any distance between them might make the dream disappear. She shivers at the blonde’s warm breath on her neck. Her hands start to wander, tracing circles, triangles, nameless shapes. Their eyes lock once again, and the contact is not broken again. Blue eyes make green their own. 

"I am fine." Lexa states.

"You can barely stand."

"I am standing right now."

"The only reason you're not actually falling is because I'm holding you."

 Lexa licks her lips. She’s not even awake of her move, but the stranger notices it and eyes lit with waves of sparkles.

Lexa lets her take control. She is being touched in all the right places to make her desire grow. She feels light kisses on her forehead, on her cheek, on her neck, but those lips carefully avoid her quivering lips. She lets out a sigh as the woman’s body finds a new place behind hers, pressing slightly against her back. The heat increases exponentially as they become almost glued to each other, their limbs trapped together, connected in delicate symbiosis.

It feels good, to be so close to another person, even if just for one night. It erases the loneliness and replaces it with the divine nectar of company.

“You’re drunk.” The blonde says. “I used to be as drunk as you. It’s not worth it, you know?”

Lex rolls her eyes. She doesn’t need another ‘perfect person’ to give her ‘the’ speech.

“You are free to leave.”

“So are you.”

Both chuckles. Not going to happen.

“Let’s leave this place together instead,” the blonde’s voice is everywhere. She’s impatient, Lexa can tell by the almost unnoticeable rushed tone. Even despite the controlled chaos around them, the voice made it to her, and Lexa catches the vibration to decipher the words.

They’re not especially in a hurry, but they both need something. Lexa can feel the other girl’s leg pressing deliciously between hers, asking for more, begging for more. They won’t make it home, wherever that is. They both know it.

Lexa is being lead toward a beautiful blue car. It looks expensive, but she doesn’t question its presence in such a low quality bar. It matches the stranger’s eyes, and it makes her looks even more gorgeous.

The taller girl waits for the door to be unlocked. She wants her. She doesn’t care if anyone sees them, or if it’s wrong. She doesn’t even know what wrong is anymore. She just wants her.

The blonde girl must share the same opinion, seeing as a predatory smile makes her way to her lips, and soon enough, she traps Lexa against the closed door.

Their lips crash together and the echo of their moans fills the empty air. They waited too long, and the tension has reached heavenly levels. Lexa doesn’t have to ask where this is going. The car is obviously not moving, and the lips slowly moving on hers are sending her a unique kind of message. She feels hands behind her neck blocking any chance of her to break their heated kiss, not that she’d ever want to.

Lexa’s hands are under the other girl’s shirt before she even understands how it happened. She caresses hot skin beneath her fingers, muscles tensing when she moves them to brush at specific places. She feels lips abandoning her own to travel on her neck, sucking slowly at her pulse point. She gasps, hoping there won’t be any mark, but her blue eyed partner seems to understand the silent code and moves to kiss her again.

The woman is fierce against her. She refuses to take it slow. Her whole body radiates from desire, and she wants to be in control. She pulls back, eyes darker, lips bruising already, and observes Lexa with lust, asking questions without using words.

She finds the answer in the form of an opened door, Lexa pushing her almost harshly inside, making them both fall on the back seat at a surprising speed. They don’t have time to complain though, as the owner of the blue Lexus straddles Lexa, making it sure for her to not be able to move as their lips meet again. Lexa is not one to delegate control, but she feels her body reacting to the sweet touch as a familiar feeling make its way between her legs.

“Is this okay?” Raspy words break the silence.

Lexa doesn’t answer. She feels pressure there, harder than before, and moans loudly before cursing in her head. She hates that the stranger is hot and in control. She should be the one being pleaded for more, but instead, she’s stuck beneath as silk lips explore every inch of her skin. Invisible lines are traced on her naked skin and she’s praying to be owned as soon as possible.

“I need verbal confirmation.”

If Lexa wasn’t so lost in the fifth dimension, she would’ve laughed hard at the seriousness of the whispered words.

She’s grateful, however, of the amount of care and respect the stranger seems to give her.

“I know how it is to regret things in the morning,” the voice continues, and Lexa feels like she’s hearing it from another world. “I’m saving you the trouble of drowning in shame.”

“You’re not drunk.” Lexa observes.

“I could be worse. I’ve been there, I told you. I’m not your typical stranger.”

Lexa briefly wonders what the blonde has been through. It doesn’t last very long. She may be the intoxicated one here, she still has the decent lucidity to decide their fate.

“You need verbal confirmation.” Lexa repeats.

"Yes."

"Do you also have a recording device to catch my answer?"

The tone is playful, one Lexa has not used in a long time.

"Well, technically, the car does. I don't."

"What happens if I say no?"

The owner of the Lexus pretends to think for a while, as Lexa watches her, still trapped under the delicious body.

"Then you will leave my car. And I will drive home. And I will write you a love song about how much I miss you because you're obviously the love of my life and I can't live without you."

Lexa playfully slaps the blonde's shoulder.

"You have my verbal confirmation." She answers with such a serious voice that the woman on top of her lets out a loud laugh.

It doesn't take more than a minute for the atmosphere between them to gain back its lust, and soon enough, Lexa is panting under the merciful attack of her golden haired angel.

She needs release, and that urge only grows stronger as fingers reach down past her stomach. When she finally feels what she has been waiting for, she hears her own voice whispering, cursing, ordering, begging, pleading for more.

The road on her body is traced by skilled hands and kisses on most intimate parts of her. She feels like an architect is rebuilding her from fallen bricks, and when she reaches the ultimate point of no return, she closes her eyes, banning herself from getting lost in the bluest sky above her.

Her body is shaking when she floats back to earth, covered by another sweaty one. They’re holding each other, a temporary shelter for two souls who have been through too much pain to believe in permanent security anymore.

Lexa slowly opens her eyes, and for a moment, everything makes sense again. There is no ghost in her soul, no empty house to go back to, no pity looks to deal with, no “I’m fine” automatically programmed by her brain whenever someone asks her how she is. She kisses her ephemeral lover in a way she had thought forgotten by her body, a slow, light, gentle, almost romantic, way.

It lasts for less than a second before the rational part of her takes control again, and Lexa moves back, and turns them around to move on top. The restricted space in the car makes their bodies merge together once again.

She takes control.

***

“Where’s that water?” She mumbles.

She’s back to the bar. The other girl left when Lexa told her to. She didn’t even have to explain herself, unlike some other times. It surprised her. It was like the blonde girl there knew exactly how Lexa felt, and why she wanted to be left alone. No questions were asked, no names were asked again, and no phone numbers were exchanged. They might not even live in the same city. All Lexa remembers is the sensation of her body reaching its climax, and those stunning eyes.

Tonight is great. Better than the others.

But it’s not important anymore.

She usually drank again once she was done with what she did. She drank partly because she found herself miserable, having sex with strangers and disappearing in the night after. She usually avoided sobering up so she didn’t have to think about the one person that ever really mattered, to think about how she believes she’ll never be able to be in a relationship anymore.

What is love?

She doesn’t understand it anymore, and it hurts too much to even try to move on, so what’s the point? She doesn’t see what people are so excited about. It is not worth it, it is not magical, it is not strength, it is weakness.

Being alone is the greatest liberty and the scariest prison.

“Water?” Echo asks in disbelief. “That’s the first time you ask me water since you decided to waste your nights here.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. She’s not even drunk anymore. The poison left her body, as did her sexual frustration a while earlier.

She used to feel like she was losing herself, a little bit more every night, like she would shower in alcohol and reset her memory every time. Strangely, she doesn’t want this tonight. She wants to remember the blue eyed mystery girl. She wants to never forget the way she felt.

“Do it before I change my mind.” Lexa sighs.

“Gustus would be so proud.” Echo pretends to wipe a tear from her eyes. “I should wake him up, I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“Enough.” Lexa waves one hand in the air as if that would make the bartender leave.

“Here. Careful not to drop it, I don’t want to clean your blood from the floor. Enough blood has been spilled here for the next decade.”

Lexa accepts the iced water and downs it. It feels refreshing, and way better than all those shots she used to have at this time of the night. She thinks she should always end the night with water. Maybe that will spare her the usual headache.

“So… what’s different about tonight?” Echo asks curiously.

Lexa thinks of about a hundred possible answers to this question.

She’d like to answer it’s because of the blonde stranger she met an hour again. She’d like to blame it on the magic in those eyes and the different type of fire burning in her veins as she’d been touched everywhere. She’d like to blame the sound of that heavenly voice moaning and groaning, begging and pleading, whimpering and pressing, craving and swallowing her.

She can't say anything. The logical explanation Lexa is trying to find does not exist.

“I don’t know.” She says.

She goes back home, and Anya nearly chokes on her food when she sees her roommate coming back early, and sober.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the mistakes.
> 
> Next chapter: 'A spoon of millk', in which Lexa hates coffee.
> 
> Time since the fire: 1 year and 9 months


	3. A spoon of milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lexa doesn't drink coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Just a short mention that this story is going to be slow burn. 
> 
> However, while some chapters might have less action, I included many references between those and the latter ones, so you might want to remember them :)
> 
> Also, this one is written more from Lexa's perspective, which means Clarke's name is still absent.

**A spoon of milk**

We all, in a way, need some fuel to go through the day. Without that one tiny detail, our lives suck.

For some, it’s a morning kiss from the person they love, it’s reading the newspapers while eating breakfast, it’s a text from their friends, a glance from the right person, a touch, a word, a smell. For others, it’s the way the sun shines brightly when they open their doors, it’s the familiar sound of the cars moving around in the street, it’s the shouts from children who don’t want to go to school, it’s the way they’d close the door behind. It’s just the way their day starts. Anything more, anything less, would disturb their peaceful routine and harmony.

For many people, it’s coffee.

Lexa never understood what their obsession with this drink was.

She thinks it tastes awful, and believes it poisons you with caffeine. She can’t find any valuable reason to explain why people drink it anywhere, anytime, for any reason, not aware that they should be able to wake up by themselves. They cannot function without this simple drink, and Lexa finds it absurd.

To Lexa, coffee does not represent a necessity. The first cup she drank was a bad memory. She had almost choked on the bitter taste, under the amused look of her friends. She can go on without it for months, even years, and she will not miss it. She will not stop waking up in the morning. She will not stop breathing and fall apart without it.

To Lexa, the perfect way to start a day was waking up in _her_ arms. Coffee was replaced by that single person who made her life better than it already was. While being held tightly as the sun was not even up in the sky was Lexa’s fuel, coffee was her girlfriend’s. 

 _She_ ’d drink it day and night, whenever she could. She was almost immunized to caffeine. She’d always need a cup, and would hug the life out of Lexa’s body if a warm cup was waiting in the morning.

She’d always take it the same way. As long as Lexa had known her, her girlfriend would always add one spoon of milk and one cube of sugar. No matter how large the drink was, no matter which kind of coffee, which country it came from, it was always the same ritual.

Lexa never understood why it meant so much, but she never questioned it, and learned quickly the consequences of breaking it.

Once, she had miscalculated the milk and sugar, but still, she hadn’t poured another cup, because whatever, it might not even be noticed by her lover.

She had been terribly wrong.

It was the longest, sexless, week she’d ever have. The first and last one, because Lexa learned quickly, and that was a mistake with nightmarish consequences.

Her thoughts move to the gorgeous blonde woman she met a month ago. Lexa went back to her uncle’s bar a few times, ordering water at the end of each night, and surprisingly not having sex with strangers anymore. She never saw the mysterious stranger again. Lexa figured it was a one-time thing, and that she should not be thinking about it that much anyway.

She’s not sure if she’s disappointed by the thought, or relieved.

Lexa is brought back to the present by the sound of the little door bell ringing, signaling a new customer in the small cozy coffee house. She glances around and takes a deep breath. This place reminds her of so much. It used to be her girlfriend’s favorite coffee house, The Ark, and Lexa had avoided it like the plague after her death. Such a familiar place was no good for her, and she had never felt really comfortable being alone in a different neighborhood.

But today is different. Today is _her_ birthday.

Lexa had decided celebrating a death anniversary was the most morbid thing she could do to honor her girlfriend’s memory. There was nothing cheerful in that. There was no happiness in celebrating the number of days since someone left this world. There was nothing worth celebrating. Instead, she had decided she would celebrate the day her lover was born, as she always did, because that day was precious and should be remembered.

It was the day her soulmate, Lexa still believes that strongly, was born.

She misses her.

She pokes the piece of cake.

She ordered it earlier, and now, it remains in front of her, untouched. She doesn’t know what she’s waiting for. Maybe a small part of Lexa expects _her_ to show up, laughing and telling her everything is a bad misunderstanding. Sure, nearly two years is a long time for a misunderstanding, but Lexa could not care less at this moment. Anything, really, other than cold, cruel, way too painful, facts.

She sits still, her eyes shifting from the cake, to the front door, to the other customers, back to the empty chair in front of her, carefully reserved to the name of a person that will never come.

“You’re the one whose blood turned into alcohol last time we met.”

Crystal voice. Blue eyes. Cascading blonde hair. Looking hesitantly at Lexa from above. The woman is a masterpiece now that Lexa can clearly see her at day light, and it takes her off guard.

Lexa jumps at the sight, but responds quickly.

“You’re the one who did not seem to complain about my drunken skills that time.”

Lexa doesn’t even know why she answered, but she did, and it is too late to retract. She can’t excuse herself to leave, it would be rude. Lexa is not rude, she’s only careful of whom she talks to, and she judges that the woman standing there looks harmless.

“Are you alone? Mind if I sit here?” The blonde asks with wide questioning eyes, a shy tone punctuating her words as if she’s asking permission to disturb Lexa’s world for a few minutes.

Lexa shakes her head, though she is not aware of doing so. Lexa wants so badly to say “no”, to politely say it’s her girlfriend’s place, and that she will be back in a few minutes because she only had to use the restroom.

But Lexa cannot say those words anymore.

“Of course. That would be acceptable.” She whispers instead, ignoring the raised eyebrow her poorly formulated answer conjured.

Lexa’s voice is forced, hesitating, like it doesn’t quite belong to her. It sounds as if it had been lost in another universe, and recently came back to say all the wrong things. It sounds like it has a life itself, and doesn’t want Lexa to tell it what to do anymore.

The blue eyed woman must sense something is wrong, because she stands still and doesn’t move. She stares at the piece of cake like it’s a time bomb, like Lexa is going to attack her if she so much moves one millimeter toward that chair. Her eyes flick from the patisserie to the seat, and her forehead wrinkles in confusion, as if she’s decoding some secret meaning Lexa cannot see.

“I can go if you prefer,” she offers politely.

Just like that night weeks ago, it seems like that stranger can figure out what the whole scene is about. It seems as if she can dig up exactly the reasons why Lexa is not smiling no matter how powerful the sun is, and the reasons why she’s staring at a piece of cake instead of eating it. She takes residence in Lexa’s mind, reading, analyzing, stealing secrets and encoding them without any difficulty.

“You can sit.”

As soon as they’re both facing each other at equal height, the blue eyed goddess, as Lexa is starting to rename her in her mind, speaks again.

“I’ve never seen you here before, and you obviously didn’t just move in the city. What brings you here?”

Lexa wonders what that means until she notices the uniform that identifies the other woman as an employee. A caramel colored shirt, a light white twirl on its left side, illustrating cream art, “The Ark” written in a straight bold way, and a small logo picturing a futurist version of coffee grains.

The whole place, while coffee house style, is decorated with sci-fi items, transforming it to a post-apocalyptic refuge, which it probably is, if Lexa relies on the many college students recharging their energy here.

She doesn’t know what to answer to that question. She thinks of many possible answers, the most appropriate one being “I apologize, I did not pay attention to anything other than my dead girlfriend until very recently”, but she doubts it is something she wants to mention.

Not to mention it would be a terrible way to come out.

Not that she actually has to come out, after their night together, but she still knows it would be terrible way to start a conversation.

She thinks, last time she walked through that door, she was not alone. Now she is. Now the spell is gone, shattered, has fallen to pieces around her and is cutting through the shield of joy that used to protect her.

There is nothing left behind to hold on to, just a mere piece of Black Forest cake to guide Lexa through this messed up maze of unanswered questions.

Lexa shakes the thoughts out of her head before they take over her posed behavior.

“It has been a while. I have not been here in two years.”

“That explains it.”

The girl doesn’t ask for the reasons behind this absence, and Lexa silently thanks her.

“I only started three months ago. I can’t believe you spent two years away from our incredible place always full of lazy college students complaining about classes. Not to mention our amazing coffee, which can cure the best hangovers, I’ll tell you that for next time.”

The tone suggests a joke, and Lexa cannot help the small smile that appears on her face. She dislikes coffee, but of course, her interlocutor has no way of knowing it.

Lexa does not really expect this conversation to last forever. The other girl must be in a break, and will return to work shortly. They will then go back to their own journey. There is nothing much to say between them. They met for a night, and Lexa wouldn’t have noticed the blonde today if it hadn’t been for her coming to her table.

“I remember you, you know?”

Lexa looks up at the statement. They slept together once, and they both didn’t make it a big story. Yet, the atmosphere is so extremely awkward between them that Lexa can’t help but feel like she’s meeting an ex-partner.

Why does she feel like she’s being held in hostage by the sapphire eyed queen?

Lexa refuses to be affected by this attempt at conversation. She does not want a new friend, especially not one she slept with. That could lead to terrible consequences, and god forbids if she ever explored that way. She wills herself to remain stoic.

“What do you want?” Lexa asks. “I am busy.”

A little lie never hurt anyone, she thinks. She really is busy. She is busy being nostalgic, and clearly, that stranger is a distraction. She feels like she’s being confronted to questions she’s not ready to answer, to unspoken words that might soon materialize out of the atoms between them, and to doors that are being unlocked without her permission.

“Busy looking at a piece of cake? I’m disappointed. I thought you’d have a better explanation. Is that piece of cake going to start dancing? Playing guitar? Singing? Do we sell a million dollars cake and I never knew about it?”

The playful eternal smirk on the blonde’s face does nothing to calm Lexa.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.” Lexa shrugs.

The stranger laughs and Lexa knows she wants to hear it again.

“You’re going to have a hard time with me then.” The employee winks. “But I make the best jokes, you might even change your mind about that mockery opinion.”

“Who are you?” Lexa continues, unimpressed.

“Does it really matter?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Lexa nods and remains silent. She hates that she doesn’t have control on her body right now. She wishes she could take back that nod and bury it deeply to the center of the planet. At this point, she wishes she could murder that nod, slowly, painfully.  

“You’re staring at a piece of cake, and I just happened to be on break. We can either pretend to be interested in the other’s life, like you’re doing right now, or you can be honest with me and tell me to go away. You can leave if you want, and never come back. You know where I work, and I need money, I can’t really run away. Isn’t that enough for you to go on with your day?”

Yes.

“No.”

Lexa knows the blonde isn’t really serious with her latest answer, but she can’t fight the word from coming out from her mouth.

The employee looks around, probably checking the time to make sure she’s not late. She waves her hand at another girl behind the counter, in a way that actually translates to ‘I’m going to be late.’ She takes her time, almost as if she wanted Lexa to wait and even expect her future answer.

“I’m no one.” She finally declares with a raspy voice.

Surprisingly enough, Lexa is not bothered by the answer. She’s not surprised by it either. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a name. 

“Would my name be enough to satisfy you?” The employee goes on. “Even if you knew my name, you wouldn’t know who I am. You wouldn’t know my personality. You wouldn’t know what I like, what I dislike, what I fear and what I seek. You wouldn’t know anything from my past, or my future. You wouldn’t read me like you want to, and before you interrupt me, I know you want to.”

Lexa can’t deny the statement. She knows denying it would be lying, and she won’t embarrass herself any longer in front of that stranger. She still needs to preserve a minimum of her dignity, which has been crumbling down a bit more whenever she provided any answer to the blonde.

Any sense of control she has is the Titanic, and the blonde is the iceberg that will, sooner or later, make her sink.

Lexa would bet her life on that.

“You would only know my name,” the girl continues, oblivious to Lexa’s thoughts. “Would that really be enough for you?”

Lexa blinks once at the elaborate answer. The name tag of the mysterious woman is nowhere to be seen, and Lexa is starting to believe the whole meeting was planned. She curses herself for her lack of attention. She’s been trapped and she can’t escape.

“Then you must not wish to know mine.” She ignores the last question.

“Honestly? I do.” The employee shrugs. “But I also know that if I don’t give you mine, you won’t give me yours. Plus, that makes our relationship special, no?”

“You are right.” Lexa answers, not clarifying to which part she agrees to.

“I’m done in one hour. Wait for me?” She doesn’t wait for any answer and turns around.

Lexa stays still for a few seconds before the delectable smell of fresh coffee reaches her again. She will never understand why she despises the taste so much, but could live forever in its scent.

They’re making more coffee. Clients always come back for more. They need energy. They can’t seem to make their own anymore. They are almost controlled by corporations selling brown nectar in different forms.

It brings Lexa back to the reason why she came here first.

To the spoon and cube.

To the milk and sugar.

Dark coffee, warm coffee, iced coffee.

A vague of sadness threatens her. She had managed to momentarily not think about the situation, and Lexa almost wishes that the blue eyed girl would have stayed just so she wouldn’t feel miserable, sitting alone in a place that used to mean so much to her.

Lexa gets up and nearly runs toward the restroom, ignoring the quick glance she knows a certain employee is sending her. She knows she won’t cry, but she does not want to take any chances.

She remembers.

She remembers so much. Pictures of them sitting in that place, smiling and holding hands, are everywhere she sets her eyes on. She remembers the way their bodies used to sit close, their hips barely touching. She remembers the way their eyes captured each other. She remembers the way her girlfriend always ate faster than her and pretended to be mad at how slow she was, “wasting precious time to do much more interesting things.” She remembers sleepless nights spent playing board games with Anya and Lincoln, and even Echo sometimes. She remembers the way her loved one would take her hand, drag her to the bathroom, winking suggestively at her.

Lexa was the typical good girl. She would never do anything remotely wrong. But her girlfriend didn’t care. She never did. She simply looked at Lexa and kissed her, held her, loved her.

And suddenly, just like that, the perfection’s gone.

Her girlfriend’s eyes are screaming things her smile tries to cover at any cost. Her words are rushed. She lies. She avoids Lexa’s eyes. She pushes Lexa away. She screams profanity. She cries. Her beautiful face is gone. She’s cursed with dark thoughts. Her soul is being tortured while her body remains perfectly intact, a simple efficient barrier against the judging look of the world. She calls for help. She begs for an answer. She doesn’t wait for any answer. She lights a fire. She smiles, tears streaming down her face. She wants to be alone.

Lexa gulps air like she has been without it for too long.

The guilt flows in her veins, but she chooses to ignore it for a while. It is a matter of time before it comes back to eat her alive. It pulsates through her body, as if her heart, the source of life, was encouraging the propagation of this parasite.

Lexa leaves the bathroom.

She freezes. The table at which she was sitting earlier is occupied by two people she doesn’t know. Her seat is taken, and the cake is gone.

She looks at the time and scolds at herself. Fifty minutes have gone by, and it’s a miracle no one kicked her out of the bathroom.

She forgets about the cake she never ate. Maybe coming here was a bad idea.

Maybe it was a horrible idea.

The worst idea of them all.

She should never come back.

She’s been outside for no longer than five minute before she hears it again.

“Hey! So… you didn’t wait,” the familiar voice sings at her.

She’s no longer wearing her uniform, but a blue leather jacket, and it looks amazing despite all the alarms going off in Lexa’s head.

“You didn’t keep my place.”

“It was not really my job. I thought you were gone.”

“I was not.”

“I realized that. When I saw you running outside. Without, you know, waiting. For me. I mean, I know I didn’t really expect you to, but, you know.”

Lexa feels her walls bending under the weight of this simple, meaningless interaction. Her thoughts are all disturbed, twirling in her brain, bouncing on every corner, leaving her with the beginning of a headache.

“Here’s your cake.” The girl hands her a small box.

Lexa hesitates.

“I was not eating it. There was no need for you to bring it to me.”

“But you paid for it.”

“I know.”

“I figured it would be important for you to have it.” She pushes the box in Lexa’s hand, her fingers brushing lightly against the other girl’s.

Lexa hates how right the blonde is. She hates it, because she thought she was doing a good job at pretending everything was fine. She hates it, because blue eyes are looking at her with such sincerity, such care, and she cannot return it, and she _wants_ to.

The cake was her girlfriend’s favorite. Black Forest, but made with coffee whipped cream. The kind of sugar overdose that would keep her up all night, harassing Lexa with pointless false philosophical questions such ‘why is the sky so dark if the stars are so bright?’ or ‘why is the sky so blue if the sun is so yellow?’

Black Forest cake was her girlfriend’s version of weed.

Lexa thinks that cake would have been their wedding cake, had it been a wedding at all.

“And I got you a black coffee. I added a sugar. I’m not sure how you like it. I know how wrong it feels to drink coffee in a different way than the one we’re used to. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. But you looked like you needed it. You looked like you needed something. I figured I should remind you why this place is so famous in the neighborhood. I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to drink it, maybe it was totally out of line from me. Don’t throw it at me though. Not that I think you will. You won’t, right?” She rambles.

Lexa stares, confused. She doesn’t drink coffee. A few months ago, she couldn’t even look at one without being a sobbing mess. The familiar paper cup reminds her of the hands holding many of them.

She’s faced with the dilemma of throwing that cup on the ground and stepping repeatedly on it, and probably seeing such a beautiful face turning sad, versus drinking the damn thing.

The answer is flashing in her head with bright yellow neon letters, surrounded by fireworks and an orchestra.

“Do you have a spoon?” Lexa argues with herself that she asks that question because she is too polite to refuse the drink, but another motivation she can’t quite name plays a role as well.

The nameless girl hands her one, along with a small cup of milk. She watches as Lexa carefully pours exactly one spoon of milk, not one more drop. A slight white shadow floats on the dark lake before disappearing under the surface.

“Thank you.”

It is probably the nicest words Lexa has mentioned since the beginning of their meeting earlier. It doesn’t feel so terrible to pronounce them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why one spoon?”

“It tastes good this way.” Lexa lies.

“Right.” The blonde girl doesn’t insist.

Lexa is relieved. Truth is, she doesn’t even know why one spoon. She never asked about it. She doesn’t know whether it has a special meaning, whether it is a family tradition or whether it is related to anything at all. She never learned about all those little insignificant details, and she regrets not asking more about them.

She wonders how the blonde takes her coffee.

A comfortable silence is born between them as they keep walking down the street. They both didn’t ask in what direction the other is going, but it doesn’t seem to matter much.

They follow each other for a moment, like gravity is pulling them together. Gravity cannot be fought against.

They stop at a bus stop, a quiet mutual understanding that they should go their separate ways now. Lexa’s emerald irises meet celestial’s ones. There’s the familiar tension again, none of them knowing how to make it go away. There is something in the air, and they can’t be sure whether it is toxic or not, and whether is the good kind of poison, or the deathly one. Maybe the answer is the combination of both.

“This is weird.” The nameless girl says. “I’d like to say I’ll see you around, but I have doubts about that.”

“Maybe you will.”

Both cannot tear their eyes apart from each other.

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“Thank you again, for the coffee.”

A heavy silence steps in. Lexa’s eyes watch, as blue ones trace an invisible line between the paper cup and her lips.

“You haven’t tried it yet.”

It takes a long two minutes before Lexa notices the full cup of coffee in her hand. She has not tasted it yet, the other is right, and she has the feeling they won’t be able to part ways until she does. It is ridiculous, she thinks, because she does not drink coffee.

She has been repeating that mantra in her head all day. She does not drink coffee.

“You don’t drink coffee.” The other woman says with the conviction of someone who’s sure they’re telling the truth.

She speaks like she has known it since the beginning.

Lexa hates the taste of coffee.

Lexa drinks it anyway because the infinite sky is staring at her, and she cannot find the strength to refuse it anything.

She wonders if she ever will.

 _To Costia,_ she silently cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Truth or Dare, in which Lexa is invited to Jasper's party.
> 
> Time since the fire: 1 year and 10 months
> 
> More characters are introduced in the next chapter. Anya will also appear later, as well as Nia (the ice queen). 
> 
> Also, has anyone seen the TCA pictures because our girls look fierce!


	4. Truth or dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lexa is invited to Jasper's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's name still unknown. Kind of.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos :)

**Truth or dare**

Lexa has no idea how she ended up here, surrounded by strangers.

She’s been drinking, that she is sure of, and has been pretending to be a part of this whole thing for a few hours so far. She scans the room with attention as the popular guys dance with the hottest girls, almost having sex on the dance floor. She glances at a group of college students playing beer pong. The male population is cheering loudly while flirting or eyeing its next victim. She hears various shouts from strangers announcing their arrival to the scene.

The whole scene makes her think of a zoo.

She thinks about how similar this situation is to another one she experienced years ago. A party, a large dance floor illuminated by neon lights, illegal drinking as they were still minors, and an escape from a needy guy, it had been the perfect recipe to find herself falling in the arms of a girl who would become her girlfriend later on, Costia.

They used to go places like this, and dance like there was no tomorrow. They used to share drinks and communicate by winks thrown from one side of the room to the other. Even in the most disorganized chaotic parties, they would always find and protect each other against the groping hands of other horny teenagers.

It had taken three parties before Lexa finally gathered the courage to ask Costia out.

It had taken five parties before they became official.

It had taken ten more parties before Anya finally accepted Costia in the group, firmly giving her the “do not hurt my best friend or I will hunt you down” speech three times in two hours.

Time didn’t stop after her death, but parties now make Lexa feel out of place. She doesn’t feel quite as safe as she used to.

“Hey!” A cheerful tone chimes. “I thought you’d want another drink.”

“Thank you.”

Lexa accepts the red cup from the blonde girl’s hand, trying not to give too much importance at their fingers brushing together. The not-so-stranger anymore is the main, only, reason why she’s here. Sapphire eyes are scrutinizing her, as if their owner is afraid Lexa will disappear.

“You don’t have a drink?” Lexa asks.

“I’m alternating between alcohol and water. I’d like to remember this night tomorrow,” the other girl winks suggestively.

It’s been three weeks since their meeting at the coffee house.

Lexa went back to the Ark almost every day after spending two days locked in her room. It was as if there was a magnetizing force pulling her toward it. She spent her visits buying a piece of cake and a small coffee, both of them remaining religiously untouched as the blonde stranger would look at her curiously while working.

Three weeks of walking home with said stranger while sipping the almost cold coffee, and sharing a piece of Black Forest cake together.

Three weeks spent without sharing more than hello’s and small talk.

They slept together only twice during those three weeks. No words were exchanged when their bodies collided together, replaying the same story over and over again.

During those two nights, they left the outside world behind, exchanging the cacophony of the industrial life for moans and muffled begs, pants and lustful whispers. It was always the same, Lexa letting her whole self being dominated before stealing control, almost violently, like she perpetually had something to prove.

It always ended up with both of them sharing eye contact, awkwardly waving at each other as one would leave the other behind in messy sheets.

Lexa still ignores her name, and Lexa’s name remains a secret to the stranger as well. They made an implicit pact not to disclose them. They both didn’t ask. They didn’t need to know. It wouldn’t bring them closer. It wouldn’t help them understand the other better. It would only put a name to a face, an identity to body. It would not uncover anything about who they were.

Maybe they are becoming friends.

They don’t speak much, but when they do, there is no judgment, no double meaning. They respect each other’s boundaries, and it is something they are both thankful for.

They support each other through the excruciating feeling of being lost.

When the blue eyed girl invited her to this college party, Lexa felt like she had no choice but to accept. She felt like she had to come along, like she couldn’t be separated from that woman for too long. She was asked to be a part of the girl’s world for tonight, and she accepted.

This attraction is not something she can explain, even if someone paid her to.

Lexa had first figured it would be easy. She only had to plaster a fake smile on her face and her role would be done. Pretending to fit in the average party scene was a talent she had long mastered. However, the blonde’s presence was a variable she did not take in consideration when she had planned her act.

Lexa truly want to have fun again, she simple doesn’t know how.

“Having fun?”

The question is merely rhetorical.

Maybe her friend, Lexa should get used to call her “her friend”, just wants to make sure she is not about to have a major breakdown in the middle of everything. Maybe she wants to start a conversation. Maybe she wants Lexa to feel welcomed. Maybe she wants to make sure there is no awkwardness between them.

Maybe Lexa thinks too much about the meaning of those two simple words.

“There’s an enjoyable ambiance. People seem nice, although I do not expect them to remember anything tomorrow. I suppose I can call this a good night.”

Lexa’s voice sounds robotic, even to herself. Who is she fooling? What kind of sentence is that? Lexa almost rolls her eyes at herself and at the lamest explanation she has ever given to someone.

“You don’t have to pretend.” There is no disappointment in the voice, rather a clear amusement. “I just wanted to change your mind a little. From whatever it is that occupies it.”

The light tone she uses make Lexa feels better. There is no need to make this a big deal, and the brunette is thankful.

“Change my mind?”

“Open your mind. Open it again. Make you see something new, something clear. I don’t know how to explain, but when you come to the Ark, there’s a grey cloud above your head. And tonight, well, it’s not gone, but it’s not totally present either.”

Lexa remains silent, trying to dig into further meaning. She can’t help but agrees with the words. She curses in her head. She has been weak, allowing someone else to notice it.

Lexa’s distress is too apparent, and the blonde’s broken smile appears too often as well, and perhaps they’re both simply trying to save themselves before it’s too late.

The next words are carefully chosen.

“Your eyes are emerald wonders. They belong to the Earth. They shouldn’t be hidden behind such dark clouds.”

“And yours belong to the heavens. They should not be masked by mountains blocking your view.”

The answer is immediate and escapes before Lexa can pull them back inside her brain. She does it often these days, and it always occurs when she is with such company. She does not regret them though, for they spell the truth.

Her golden haired friend looks like she, too, has been visited by too many ghosts to count, and the words slap her mind powerfully.

It seems like the answer was the right one. They both nod in understanding. They both have things to share, and maybe everything will unravel someday, maybe not. It doesn’t really matter for the moment.

Their quiet exchange is interrupted by cheerful arms wrapping around both their shoulders.

“Hello ladies!” A loud voice rings to their ears.

Lexa turns around and faces a tall, ebony short haired man. His skin shines from the thin layer of sweat. His muscles are apparent under his tight charcoal shirt, and he catches their attention as a wide smile shows perfect white teeth. Frankly, he looks like he just came from a model agency factory. He has an aura of confidence glowing around him, and, although Lexa is meeting him for the first time, she senses he portrays a loyal and trusting friend.

“Hey Bell! I’m surprise you decided to grace us with your company.”

So he has a name.

“Shut up and introduce me to your new friend already.” He laughs while pushing the blonde slightly.

He sounds like nothing is wrong with the universe.

 “Well, that’s Bellamy,” the girl points while locking eyes with Lexa before turning back at him. “For the rest, you’ll have to do it yourself,” she mumbles mysteriously.

Lexa smiles a little at that. They don’t know each other’s names. Introductions are going to be slightly uneasy if they keep that way. Before Bellamy can answer, another boy appears by his side, followed by a third one.

“Hello there, person I do not know yet! Welcome to my humble abode! May I please ask for your name? Mine’s Jasper, and this is Monty.” He gestures to the both of them.

“Guys, come on.” Bellamy rolls his eyes, sipping from his beer. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“I live in this house,” Jasper deadpans.

“I don’t care, you’re annoying.”

“Whatever, I got nowhere better to be than here, meeting such a lovely girl.” Jasper replies as if his answer is the most natural thing ever.

Lexa is slightly taken aback by the answer, but then again, it is a college party. She shouldn’t be surprised. She feels a hand protectively resting on her lower back, and turns to see blue eyes avoiding hers.

“Stop harassing my friend. I just met her a few weeks ago and she’ll run away because of you.”

“That may apply to the two freaks here, but I’m hurt!” Bellamy feigns. “Seriously, if you need anything, don’t hesitate.

Lexa nods in appreciation. She judges that they’re all harmless people overall. The one named Jasper moves forward while Monty tries to hide himself from the embarrassment that is sure to come.

“Can I show you around?” Jasper asks. “I mean, I do know the place, since I live here. I wasn’t lying about that. And Monty here can make the best drinks, if you need more.”

Before Lexa even has the chance to refuse his invitation, the hand, previously resting on her lower back, moves to circle her waist possessively. It is as light as a feather, and Lexa almost misses it. She’s surprised by how natural it feels, and how calm she is. It does not bother her as much as she initially would have thought. She does not feel claimed, or objectified. She only sees a sweet gesture.

She isn’t sure what it means, but she does not reject it.

“She’s busy.” The blonde speaks.

“You can’t just keep all the beautiful girls to yourself, Cl-“

“YES, I can, and as you can see, I already have.” The girl interrupts him abruptly, her voice rising above the music.

It would seem rude, but Lexa knows better. She hears the sound echoing in her brain, long after it is gone.

Cl.

That Jasper guy almost said a name. He almost broke the silent private contract the two girls have been sharing for weeks. Lexa came this close to learn her mysterious friend’s name.

“C?” She whispers to the girl whose hand has not moved.

Lexa knows she should feel troubled by the letter, as it is the same one ‘Costia’ starts with, but strangely, she isn’t. She thinks the coincidence is unexpected, but welcomed.

An imperceptible nod is the only answer she receives. She’s not sure when it became so important for them to ignore each other’s name, but she embraces their bond. It makes their relationship unique, in a strange way.

“L.” Lexa offers in return.

She hesitates, but the smile she is gifted with in return makes it worth it.

Lexa watches as ‘C’ silently shares a visual conversation with Bellamy. The duo understands each other without even having to try. They are obviously close friends, and Lexa supposes they must have known each other for a long time. They don’t need words to read the other, and probably only still use verbal language whenever they want others to feel included in their conversation.

Lexa wishes she could have that kind of complicity with someone. She wishes there was a way to convey everything she feels without using words.

Whenever she uses them, she loses half of the meaning of her thoughts.

She believes there is a direct correlation between the number of words she uses, and how wrong her feelings are described. Looking at Bellamy and C, she realizes there was only one person she could communicate this way with, Costia.

It makes her wonder of the type of relationship these two have, and a nauseous feeling grows in her body.

She frowns as she contemplates the reasons behind this internal torment.

“BELL!” A female voice yells. “We’re playing, bring your ass here!”

“I’m coming, O. Don’t start humiliating anyone without me; you know I’m the one who takes the best pictures!” He yells back before asking to the current company: “Truth or dare, anyone?”

This is how Lexa finds herself sitting as part of a much bigger circle of people than she expected. They all seem like they’ve known each other for a very long time, and the new addition feels like she is intruding something sacred, like she is being invited to be part of the elite.

She learns everyone’s name quickly, but somehow, C’s full name is not mentioned. There are Octavia, Bellamy, her brother, at her left, followed by C, Raven, Jasper, Monty, Harper, Miller, Atom and a guy named John who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Everyone calls him Murphy, and Lexa has a feeling she should not be calling him at all.

The game starts rather slowly, with people carefully choosing truth, obviously preferring to share embarrassing sexual stories than participating in the making of new ones. Lexa observes for a long time, and she is thankful that the group seems to give her a chance to accommodate to them before calling her out.

Lexa can’t help but laugh out loud with them as Monty embarrassedly shares a story about his latest porn discovery.

She snorts as Miller speaks about his worse drunk encounter, which turned out to him having to escape a sadomasochism addicted guy.

She grins widely as C has to tell everyone about a failed prank she did to the police. The blonde had played with what she thought was a fake cellphone, only to dial 911 and discover it was a real device. At eleven years old, that was hardcore enough to scare her for three entire weeks.

They keeps throwing questions, having fun while sharing a few more drinks. They’re not mad at each other for uncovering embarrassing secrets. They know it won’t leave the group. They are so close to each other that they don’t even bother telling the others to “not tell anyone.”

They trust each other, and Lexa craves that ability.

The first few dares are innocent and consist of drinking disgusting mixes, licking the floor and making silly pranks to random people in the room. Lexa feels like she is back in elementary school, and it is liberating. The weight of death leaves her shoulders for a moment.

When Octavia chooses dare, she looks at the guy named Murphy with challenge in her eyes. It almost looks like she’s the one daring him to do something, and not the opposite.

“I dare you to get a tattoo.”

Octavia shrugs, unimpressed.

“Yeah, because that is totally something I can do in this place.” She points out.

“Not now, in the next twenty-four hours, “Murphy states. “I’ll come check it out tomorrow night, how about it? I’m going to be nice and let you have whatever you want instead of imposing a design.”

Bellamy’s sister does not even have time to answer before said brother barks out:

“Don’t do it, O. It’s a stupid dare. What the hell is wrong with you, Murphy?! She can’t get something permanent just because of a game!”

Half of the group approves, the other one doesn’t seem so concerned. If Lexa has learned one thing during the first twenty minutes of the game, it is that Octavia Blake is not the typical ‘chasing butterfly and running through valleys of flowers’ woman. She would prove herself whenever she had the chance.

“Relax Bell, I’ve always wanted one. It was a matter of time, and Murphy here just gave me the perfect excuse.” She smirks, satisfied.

“That’s no perfect excuse. You’re young, you don’t have the money, you can’t do that. You need mom’s permission and you know she won’t give it!” Bellamy insists.

“You just named reason number one why this is the perfect dare.” Murphy laughs.

“He’s got a point,” Raven adds. “Against her mom’s order and hot. I approve. And we all know money is not a problem, Bell, it’s raining around us everyday whether we want it or not.”

Lexa blinks at C at the mention of money. Since that night in the blue Lexus, a part of her has been wondering just how much money the young student has. She obviously lacks nothing, and the house in which they are right now has no less than five floors. It is huge. They have to be at the very top of the food chain, or close to.

Octavia nods with enthusiasm, excitement tattooed already in her eyes. She has known what, and where, and how big, and what color her tattoo would be since forever.

“Deal! Anyone knows a good place?” She questions.

“You better all keep your mouths shut.” Bellamy interrupts once again.

His threat goes unnoticed as Murphy himself hands a piece of paper with the address of “the best place who will never ask any unnecessary questions” to the young woman.

It takes both Raven and C to hold the protective brother in place as he tries to punch the poor guy.

“Don’t do it, O!” Bellamy repeats.

“Don’t be such a loser.” Raven replies casually, as Octavia pockets the note.

Lexa observes.

Raven reminds her of Anya, and she suddenly realizes how long it has been since the last time they spoke. She really needs to stop avoiding her and have a longer conversation, but she is scared of the way it might turn out. The few times they spoke recently ended up with her locking her bedroom’s door, frustrated at her inability to open up to her closest friend and roommate.

“I’m not a loser, I’m stopping O from making an impulsive decision.”

“As if you never did something impulsive in your entire life,” Raven still defends Octavia.

Lexa zones out for the rest of their argument.

She feels like life is a huge Truth of Dare game.

Everyday, people are confronted to this question. Would they rather act this way or another? Would they rather pretend something instead of admitting the truth? Would they rather embarrass themselves by doing something wrong so they can protect their deepest secret? Would they rather tell the truth and accept the consequences that come with it? Would they jump off a bridge if they were asked to? Would they take the chance to ruin everything to gain that one thing they’ve been eyeing all their life?

If they are asked a dangerous question, will they avoid it? If their answer could disturb the way the planet kept its balance, would they protect it to death?

Every single thing they do, it’s all part of the bigger game. And sometimes, they don’t even get to choose between the two.

So, Truth or Dare?

Will they tell the truth or will they cover it by acting?

“Because that’s hot!”

Lexa glances up at Jasper’s loud voice and wonders what exactly he is talking about. She notices the sentence is directed at Raven, and assumes she must have skipped a few rounds because she does not recall Jasper answering the question before asking it back.

“You’re a pervert jerk, you know that?” Harper points out annoyingly.

“Please, you think they’re hot too!” Jasper retorts. “Plus, it’s a college party, what else do you expect?”

“Anything but intelligence apparently,” Bellamy mumbles, still bitter about Octavia’s future ink.

“Raven said dare. Technically, anything legal is accepted. Hot making out is allowed.” Monty states.

Legal? Lexa wonders if anything illegal ever happened. It wouldn’t surprise her. She did have her share of irresponsible acts too after all. Her brain is barely catching up with the ‘hot making out’ statement when her thoughts stop racing.

She doesn’t have any more time to contemplate the situation, because her sight is suddenly attacked by Raven leaning close to C, very close, until there is no space at all between them.

She feels the bile bubbling in her body as she watches, half fascinated and half disgusted, by the two other girls kissing with the kind of intensity that should be regulated by law.

Lexa thinks she should apply to presidency for that only reason.

Raven’s hand is pushing hard behind C’s neck, keeping their lips locked together as their tongues meet fiercely. She moves to straddle the blonde, connecting their bodies together as she presses herself closer.

Lexa notices for the first time the brace Raven wears, and briefly wonders what happened, before rolling her eyes mentally. It is clearly none of her business. She can’t simply go around asking the girl why she needs a brace to walk.

The mechanism isn’t stopping Raven from any kind of action, Lexa observes at the sight of the two women grinding their bodies.

She almost considers going deaf when she hears the muffled moans coming from the duo engaged in their almost rough meeting.

Raven’s hairs are a mess, as C’s hands keep the other girl’s head in place.

After a few seconds only, though Lexa mentally compares it to eternity, they let go of each other, swollen lips slightly parted as they catch a breath.

Lexa’s sour feelings disappear, as if they were never there in the first place.

She buries them under many layers of steel and forces herself to forget about them.

Her eyes meet C’s, but she looks away. She can’t handle seeing the flustered look that is made by someone else. The blonde girl looks slightly embarrassed, but also aroused, which Lexa almost chokes on.

“Damn.” Jasper sighs. “I love those parties.”

“You’re an ass.” Octavia says.

“You, the new girl! She-who-must-not-be-named, according to C! Truth or dare? We’ve been nice so far, but now’s your turn.” The girl, Raven, is looking at Lexa like a hunting wolf.

Whatever Lexa’s answer will be, Raven’s going for the poor girl’s life, according to the predatory look she’s giving.

Lexa hesitates, bends under the intense stares of the group. She’s not sure if she wants to play anymore. If she says truth, she might have to open her Pandora box, whereas if she says dare, who knows what she will have to do to prove herself tonight.

She doesn’t know the tight group. She isn’t part of it. That make out session made her so uncomfortable that she only wants the night to end.

She’s not sure she’s enjoying herself so much anymore, despite the reassuring looks she receives from C.

“Come on, we’re not going to bite you. Unless you like that. I won’t judge.”

“Leave her, Raven.” C interjects. 

Raven doesn’t seem to care much. She looks like she’s used to waiting for an answer that might turn the whole situation around. She waits patiently for Lexa’s answer, as if she just knows how important it will be.

“If you choose dare, I’ll try to be nice,” she winks. “I might just ask you to kiss C over there. She’s been eying you since the game started and I’m sensing sexual frustration. I might have made it worse actually, but don’t worry, she’s all yours.”

“Rae…”

“If you choose truth however, you should get ready for embarrassing questions. I don’t know anything about you, so I’m going all in.”

Lexa, on the other hand, is not calm anymore. She’s shaking. She’s unconsciously looking for an escape. She feels like an animal in cage. She’s being prepared for the slaughterhouse. She’s not sure if it means she’s experiencing the beginning of a panic attack, but she doesn’t want to remain here to find out.

She’s not sure if she should blame the kiss she witnessed, but she has a feeling it might be related, even just a little.

She hates that idea.

“It’s not such a big deal, girl, we’ve all answered the question already.” Murphy comments with his usual snarky tone.

“Are you alright?” Bellamy asks, concerned. “It’s just a game, we’re not going to force you.”

Lexa fears the endless possibilities of questions. She doesn’t want to open up.

She doesn’t feel ready for any kind of question, personal or not. She’s not ready to spill secrets she has guarded with her life for so long, even if there are chances she won’t even be asked to reveal them.

The possibility is enough to light up her system.

Lexa’s eyes are glued to the floor. Amplified music reaches her ears, stabbing her eardrums, and the bright colors that friendly animate the room are suddenly blinding and harassing her. Everyone is waiting for her, and it is the worst feeling.

Everyone is too far, too close, too _real_.

Her beating heart is on the edge of exploding in her chest, and she knows she won’t survive the blast. Her lungs are filled with toxic chemicals instead of oxygen, and her blood has turned to acid roaming inside her body.

She’s petrified because she thinks everyone can see how close she is to lose her battle against herself.

But no one seems to notice, and Lexa can’t control the way she’s sweating, ready to break down in thousand pieces.

“I’ll choose for you,” Octavia laughs obliviously, “because it looks like you need another drink, so I dare you to do body shots. And you know exactly whose body I’ll direct you to.”

Lexa shakes her head strongly. She doesn’t want to play. She doesn’t want alcohol. She doesn’t want to drink alcohol from someone else’s body, no matter how attractive that someone is.

A light tug at her shirt makes her flinch, and suddenly, she is breathing again, on the other side of the closed doors of the mansion. She swallows hardly a couple of time, reacquainting with the fresh spring air.

It feels like the first breath since a thousand years.

“I’m sorry about that. They don’t know when to stop.”

At this precise moment, C’s voice becomes the physical representation of the word “safe“.

“Do not be. It is not your fault. I lost control.”

“You don’t have to be in control all the time.”

Lexa is not quite reassured by those words, but they are sufficient to ease her back to Earth. She only then notices the hand tightly gripping hers. It scares her, the way her heart does not seem to slow down at the sight, the way adrenaline continues to be released in her system, and especially, the way a familiar fluttering feeling takes residence in her stomach.

“I want to.” She murmurs to her blonde anchor, the only one that makes sense in her anarchic life.

“Why?”

Lexa has no answer to offer.

They’re facing each other and the sun has long exited the sky. The moon is hidden behind clouds, but the faint glow is enough for them to see each other. Lexa is under the impression that this level of intimacy surpasses the sleepless nights they shared, invisibly marking each other’s body.

She quickly dismisses any thoughts of Raven’s lips ever being on C’s.

C never lets go of Lexa’s hand. Maye they both have a mutual understanding when it comes to comforting each other.

When was it that they became so well at reading each other? When was it that this physical abnormal relationship morphed into something more significant?

The silence cannot be infinite.

“Hypothetically, what would you have answered?”

Lexa knows she would rather jump off the moon than talks about her demons tonight.

“Dare.” She whispers so faintly C almost misses it.

There is another silence. The kind of heavy silence everyone wishes to avoid.

The kind of void that needs to be filled so the end of the world can be avoided.

It’s the kind of pause that makes Lexa wants to separate their hands so she can run away to another land. It’s the kind of tension that could not be cut through, even using a handsaw made of the hardest diamonds.

It’s the kind of pressure anyone would want to escape from.

Lexa observes as C weights the positive and negative aspects of the answer. The brunette thinks she’s about to witness a life changing event.

Sooner or later, she thinks, she will have to move forward. Costia cannot haunt her forever. It has to stop. It needs to. Lexa even gets the peculiar feeling that it has been the only possible next step for her. She knows that feeling was born the same night she was kissed against the blue car.

“I dare you to see me.”

The sky turns her to its prisoner once again. The shape of the blonde’s body clearly stands out as the night’s shadow moves on them.

“I see you.” Lexa’s weak soft tone gets lost in the air.

No additional words are spoken.

The answer is wrong.

The way the green eyed girl said it is rigid, forced, and the words came out too quickly. Everything about it is wrong. Lexa doesn’t see her. She can’t. She just looks, but can’t truly _see_ anything.

The blonde’s words from earlier that night are right: Lexa’s eyes are hidden behind such dark clouds that she cannot see anything in a limpid way.

Not even when their bodies were merging into one another, or when their eyes were locked in frozen time, or when their lips were attached together…

Lexa doesn’t know what she is supposed to understand, what she is supposed to look for. What is there to see? The shadow of a complete puzzle hovers in her mind, but so many pieces are missing that the frame slowly disappears.

Lexa can’t fully grasp the complexity of another human being when she can’t even understand herself firstly.

If C is as mysterious as she seems to be, Lexa’s chances of decoding the girl are inexistent for now.

 “Dare.” She repeats.

“I dare you to see me.”

Lexa hears, but does not see.

 “What if I do not possess this ability?”

The answer is quick, sharpened, cutting through Lexa’s armor.

“We’ll learn together.”

They stop having meaningless sex after that conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 'Head or heart', in which Fish the dog is mentionned. (jk, in which Clarke and Lexa plays 21 questions).
> 
> Time since the fire: 1 year, ten months, 3 weeks
> 
> LESS THAN A WEEK UNTIL S3! :)


	5. Head or Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which hints of Clarke's story are revealed, and Fish the dog is mentionned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! 
> 
> Partly from Lexa's POV, so no Clarke name yet. Bear with me for a little longer.
> 
> All credits of the basic idea of Fish to clarkegriffintexts tumblr. Check it out if you haven't already!

**Head or heart**

Remember the first promise you made? You were so sure of yourself, so confident that you would keep it forever, because it was life’s logic at that time. You would pinky swear with someone, and suddenly, it was a sealed blood contract under the universe’s law.

Break it, and die.

You would promise to be nice, promise to always look both sides of the street before crossing it, promise to say “thank you” and “please”, promise to have good grades so your parents wouldn’t be disappointed, promise to stay best friends forever, promise to share secrets with that one special person, promise to never let someone go… promise to love until forever.

You would discover some promises meant more than others, that some of them were more precious. You would understand words have power. You would keep those words in your heart, protecting them from the outside. They would become a part of you.

Remember the first promise you broke? You were not so confident anymore, hesitating to even open your mouth and speak. You thought it was the right thing, to break it. You thought it wasn’t even your fault. You’d blame it on everyone else, anyone else but you. You’d say sorry and forget about it, without knowing the other person’s trust was gone. You’d ignore the fact that it was your fault.

You’d say things like “I made this choice with my head, not my heart”, because it was the best explanation you could think of.

You would get over it easily. And when you’d break the ultimate promise, you’d realize nothing lasts forever.

The love you thought you would feel all your life was fading away, leaving only sad memories behind.

You’d realize how easy it was to make promises, but how challenging it was to keep them. You would feel like a part of you was being betrayed when someone you cared about just forgot about their promise. But, like a perfect cycle, you would end up doing the same to them.

Soon enough, you’d face the truth.

Promises were just words put together, and sometimes they were meant to be broken.

You made a promise, a lifetime ago.

To Costia.

You promised her you would protect her. You assured her she’d be fine, that whatever black hole she faced at that time would eventually go away.

You promised blindly, and with your heart.

A rookie mistake.

You still blame yourself for falling into such a trap. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.

Costia needed someone to see her, to break her walls down. She wanted someone to ignore the illusion of the perfect life. She wanted the truth to be exposed. All she asked from you was to be able to keep a promise, and in the end, you couldn’t.

Promises which roots came from the heart were always the first ones to slip out of your reach.

You were sure of one thing when that promise vanished.

You would now think rationally before acting.

No more empty promises, no more heart-related promises.

You planned to go all your life this way, but then, your world met C’s, and everything changed.

And when that blue eyed girl asked you to try to see her, you accepted it. She asked you to try, and you said yes.

And it was, implicitly, a promise. From your heart.

You think you’re making that same rookie mistake again, and you can only hope the outcome is different.

***

It has been a week since Lexa accepted C’s dare. She’s currently sitting in the Ark coffee house, watching the blonde employee flying from one order to the next one. It’s their first meeting since that party.

Lexa finished her cake and coffee a while ago, but whenever she even thinks about leaving her table, her blonde friend throws a glance in her direction, mixed with her best smile. It makes Lexa sit back wordlessly, unable to move, and by the time she realizes the sun is gone, the coffee shop’s closed already.

“Nice seeing you here, stranger. You’re waiting for me?”

“You practically forced me to stay here.” Lexa points out.

“You decided to stay, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t use force.”

“You would not stop staring at me.”

“Excuse me for having the ability to use my eyes.” The blonde shrugs while cleaning the empty tables.

Lexa fights the urge to roll her eyes at their childish interaction. The place is empty, the lights are dimmed and the doors are closed. It portrays a safe cocoon, a place where they can talk privately without being disturbed.

It feels like they are protected from the rest of the universe.

“Do you work everyday?” Lexa asks. “You’re always here.”

“School is expensive.” The other girl explains. “I try to work as much as possible. It’s not the finals yet. I’m also saving for an eventual trip. There’s a great art gallery I’d like to visit across the country.”

Lexa nods at the answer. Art. She shouldn’t be surprised, the blonde girl is, after all, still mostly a stranger.

“Plus, the fact that you noticed I’m always here proves that you’re also mostly spending time here. Drinking coffee you don’t like.”

Lexa refuses to answer. No excuse in the whole world could give her a credible explanation to justify her omnipresent presence.

“Did you enjoy the other night? The party?” C asks once everything is cleaned, sitting in front of Lexa.

Lexa is not sure what to answer. She wants to say no, she did not, because it was crowded with people she didn’t know, and it reeked of alcohol and sweat and horny college students. She wants to say yes, she did, because the ending was flawless, and intimate, and raw, and so important to her.

She wishes so badly to have the ability to say yes, because during that night, despite the crisis near the end, she felt normal again.

“It was distracting.” She says instead, shutting down the voices in her head.

“I’m glad. I just thought you’d want to meet someone else. Like I said, I thought that maybe you’d want to meet new people. You always seem alone when you come in here… There’s no one to share the warmness of this place with you. There’s no one sitting beside you. There’s no one letting you taste their drink or cake. You radiate loneliness.”

Lexa is speechless at the way C’s words go straight to her heart. It’s true. She never expected C to talk to her in the first place. She never expected to be noticed, to be looked at like she mattered.

“Thank you,” Lexa smiles.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I insist.”

“Thank you for thanking me.”

“You are welcome.” Lexa says automatically, not realizing the silliness of the situation.

She takes a brief pause before adding:

“Was that really necessary?”

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted! I was only following your lead!”

They both giggle a little, and a two minutes of quietness surrounds them before C breaks it once again while fiddling with her hands.

“I’m glad to see you here. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again after that party. I mean, I thought maybe you’d freak out, which I would have understood.”

Lexa doesn’t mention that she did have a temporary break down.

“Maybe I like coffee more than I thought.” She whispers.

C laughs, a brilliant, loud, full of life, laugh. The blonde woman still notices the way Lexa’s nose crinkles whenever the brunette takes a sip of the drink, the way she automatically frowns, the way she licks her lips in distaste, and the way she hurries to put a piece of cake in her mouth to change the taste.

“Maybe…” She says mysteriously. “You’re lying. You still don’t like it. Which makes me want to ask, what the hell are you coming here for?”

It’s a trap, Lexa thinks, and she won’t fall for it. So what if she wants to see the blonde woman working? It’s not a crime. It’s a free country. It’s her money she’s spending buying drinks she hates. She has the right to do whatever she wants, just like she has the right to overthink the situation the way she’s doing right now.

“There’s no reason.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here anyway. Frankly, I’ve had a horrible day until you crossed that door.”

Lexa wonders what “horrible day” means to C. She wonders if it rhymes with nightmares and doubts and tears, and dreams refusing to exist anymore. She wonders if it represents shapeless monsters taking over her soul.

“I’m sorry to hear about that.” Lexa says. “Are you okay?”

She figures she might as well ask, if she wants to give this whole ‘see me’ plan a chance.

“Yeah, don’t worry. My mom called me today. Told me my ex called. Said I should call him back and be the bigger person.” C sighs. “He acts like I owe him an apology when he played me during most of our relationship.”

Bad beak up. Lexa is familiar with the heartache.

“May I ask what happened between the two of you?” She offers.

She hasn’t seen C’s eyes sparkle the way they usually do when they speak together, and she hopes to bring that back.

“He asked me out. It was great until I realized he had somehow forgotten to tell me he was also in a relationship with Raven, the girl you saw at the party.” Her friend says with an empty voice.

Something in the tone tells Lexa that there is much more to the story. There’s something she’s not picking up, and it bothers her. She wonders how someone could ever want to hurt this imperfect perfection.

“I broke up, of course. He insisted on seeing me. He wasn’t so bad, just persistent, you could say.”

“This can be categorized as bad.”

“Yeah you’re right. The fact that he still calls me proves it. But Raven and I both got over him. There’s no need to provoke anything. He’ll give up.”

 “It is affecting you.” It is a fact, not a question.

Lexa cannot help the concern in her voice. She is familiar with people imposing themselves on others, and she knows how thin the line can be between what is acceptable and not. She still senses that she is not been given the whole story. She doesn’t want to push her friend, but the way blue eyes are blurred by memories convinces her to try.

“Does he harass you at work?” Lexa asks politely.

This is a legit question, and it doesn’t feel like she’s rushing anything. C’s dry laugh immediately fills the space between them.

“No. He can’t.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s actually calling from jail. He’s been sentenced a few months ago.”

C’s eyes refuse to meet Lexa’s. She’s slightly shaking, and it’s the kind of behavior that lets Lexa knows she should not dwell too much in the subject. She has an answer. An incomplete one, but still, it’s more than what she first expected.

“I loved him. It still hurts. But he’s a jerk, he made sure to make Raven and I know that.”

The past tense is made clear. It is definitive, so is the present tense.

“Love is weakness.” Lexa says. “Perhaps it is the reason to explain your suffering.”

“Weakness?”

“You should not let yourself be affected by your feelings. It makes you weak. It makes you their victim. It makes you an easy target for emotional abuse.”

It feels like a speech she repeated too many times, and even she is tired to hear the words come out of her throat. C doesn’t appear perturbed.

“Emotional abuse?” She raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little exaggerating?”

Lexa shakes her head.

“I guess… I have to disagree this time.” C says carefully. “Finn did wrong. He did really wrong, but I can’t simply stop caring about people just because of him. It’s not who I am. I could never do that.”

“Then the pain will never go away.”

“Do you always speak so tragically?”

“I am merely stating the truth.”

“Yeah well, with all due respect, your truth sucks. What dramatic story happened to you?”

Lexa stares ahead as blue eyes analyze her once again. She is being scanned against her will, and her walls cannot stand against this intrusion. She faintly hears Costia’s muffled cries in the night, and frowns at how distant they sound. The blow to her guts is weaker than before. She has always tried so badly to convince herself she’d be better off without feelings, but the ones she has when she’s anywhere near C makes her believe the opposite.

Her heart is taking control once again.

Her truth might “sucks”, as C so eloquently put it, but it has made sense to her so far. She doesn’t know how to live without it, how to let it go.

The silence C meets is enough for her to not push the subject farther. Of course, she assumes Lexa must have been through something terrible to feel this way about any form of affection. She briefly fears she crossed the line by asking about it so directly, but doesn’t mention it.

They remain silent for a moment. It could be a minute as well as an hour. They reflect on the words spoken, each unknowingly sharing the same opinion about feelings.

Feelings may make a person weak, but they also have the power to make them much, much stronger.

Feelings are the foundation of any relationship, romantic or not. They cannot be tossed away.

Feelings are the reason they both are still talking to each other despite agreeing on not tearing each other’s clothes anymore.

“Do you have a favorite color?”

Lexa cannot help the slight movement of the corner of her mouth. Just with those six little words, the tension is removed.

“What color are your eyes?” Lexa answers boldly.

Her friend’s lips purse in a small smile, but she does not answer.

“Do you have one, a favorite color?” Lexa asks.

“I’ll return the question, what color are your eyes then?”

They share a knowing look, and neither dares to answer. They both used to have a chosen favorite color, of course, but changed their mind the moment they met. It is almost comical, the way they gravitate toward each other, pushed and pulled in a dance where attraction and repulsion twirls together.

“This can last a long time. I have nowhere better to be tonight.” C continues.

“We shall wait then.”

“Fine.”

The staring competition lasts until Lexa’s eyes burn so much she has to blink. C proudly congratulates herself while cheering with her voice, as if they were in an international competition, being watched by thousands of people.

Lexa knows she’ll need to find a way to stop her heart from beating so fast. It can’t be good for her health. And she also needs to find a way to stop her eyes from burning so bad. She doesn’t want to feel the urge to close them. Blinking in front of this color would be a supreme insult.

They play 21 questions.

Lexa believes it is a childish game, but C’s smile convinces her to act the part.

Lexa discovers that C is artist, that she had always lived in a house bigger than Jasper’s until she moved with Octavia and Raven. She is currently in her third year in med school. She’s rich because her mother is, but she’d rather not depend on that money. She paints everyday, a few strokes or a whole wall, as a way to cope, and Lexa takes note to ask about what she means by that. Her best friends are her roommates, and she would do anything to ensure their safety, even if it meant losing herself in the process. Thankfully, that hasn’t been needed so far.

“I’d like to see your paintings one day.”

“I have a better idea. I’ll paint you someday. I want to share the way I see you.”

It sounds like a promise. Another one.

Lexa shares some facts of about her life as well. She grew up outside the city, amongst trees and valleys. She enjoys horseback riding and she once tricked her parents into buying her a dog when she was six years old. She hilariously named him Fish, to answer their “you’re only bringing a fish into our house” condition to go to the pet shop. C thinks it is ridiculous until she realizes it is a genius trick to use against parents. Lexa is currently in sabbatical from college. Only one year remains, and she had decided to take some time to herself after she came close to failing her classes last semester. She does not specify the reasons behind this choice, and C does not ask for them.

“I’ll have to make sure my kids never talk to you.” C laughs, and the sparkles in her eyes, the ones Lexa has been waiting for, appear again. “The only animal I plan for them to have is a goldfish.”

“I’m grateful to not have you as a mother. You’re set for a dull future.”

Lexa’s words transform the small blue sparkles in bright sapphire fireworks.

“Hey! I can be fun!”

“I didn’t exactly say that you couldn’t, but if you put it that way, I respect your choice.”

“I’ll prove it to you someday.” C pouts.

“I cannot wait.” Lexa replies in such a monotone tone that C feels the obligation to slap her shoulder playfully.

Her hand goes to rest on Lexa’s, and it does not move for the rest of the evening.

“You can’t tell me I’m boring when you spent nights in my company. If I recall, you quite enjoyed them.”

“I can, and I will.” Lexa shrugs like it is no big deal.

“You’re lying.”

“I assure you I’m not.”

“You so are, it’s bleeding through your ear.” C rolls her eyes. “I can be fun.” She repeats like a mantra, almost as if she were trying to convince herself.

They act like they are back in elementary school, and both don’t really care. Elementary school was the best time; there was no judgement, no boys or girls problems, and the only thing they had to worry about what the amount of candy that would be able to buy with the money left by the tooth fairy.

They continue to tease each other until the moon is high up in the sky and midnight is far behind them. The skyline is gorgeous despite the thousands city lights.

When they exit the coffee house and step outside, C glances up toward the infinite sky.

“I love the stars. They’re so bright. They find a way to shine in all the dark. They reach our eyes despite all the artificial lights.

“They are balls of fire.” Lexa deadpans.

It’s coping mechanism she uses, ruining the moment. She prefers that than to admit that the blonde most probably must have been a fallen star in another life, for her eyes are tainted by the sky and her hair is colored by the burning sun. In this life, Lexa imagines, her friend is the human representation of the Pole Star, eternal guide in the dark, leader of all other celestial bodies.

“They used to guide lost travelers at sea. They are not just ‘balls of fire’! Don’t you like space?” C asks, still gazing at the Milky Way.

Lexa wants to say that she would rather get lost in the Amazon forest than even step in an airplane, but the way C looks at her, hopeful and head full of dreams, stops her.

“I simply prefer the ground. Mountains, trees, oceans… I would rather feel the ground beneath my feet. Anything I can physically feel is better than distant galaxies millions light years away from us.”

Lexa believes anything physically touchable’ is better than the rest, which means feelings are the very bottom of things she’s fond of.

“I wonder what it’s like, to be up there. I wonder if it’s more peaceful than down her, if dreams really do come true when you’re far enough to see everything from a different perspective, when you’re closer to the moon than home. I wonder if it cures you from the atmosphere’s weight, if it feels like you’re born again.”

Lexa absently squeezes C’s hand.

“My dad was an astronaut.”

The wind makes leaves rustle above them, and Lexa swallows the bitter taste the use of the past tense leaves in her mouth.

“Can you imagine? Surely, it must be magical. ” C finishes.

And the way the blonde girl stands there, whispering philosophical thoughts in a tiny voice, in the middle of the serene night, makes Lexa believe the only kind of existing magic is the one she sees in those navy eyes.

“It must be.” Lexa says with a hushed voice.

C nods. The air’s weight tortures her, because all her secrets are hanging in the emptiness between every atom that composes it.

“It’s not so bad tonight.” She exhales loudly. “I blame it on you.”

Lexa momentarily stops breathing at the small confession.

She wishes she wasn’t so afraid of feelings, because she knows her head stands no chance against the way her heart is exploding in her chest.

***

Clarke arrives at her apartment a little past two in the morning. She is exhausted by work and ambivalent feelings she has toward her anonymous friend. She throws her bag on the floor and moves to her bedroom. She hears Octavia and Raven talking in the kitchen and wonders what is keeping them awake at this time.

She grabs something from her own fridge. The three girls have been living together since the beginning of college, and Clarke has realized quickly the source of her food’s disappearance. While it hadn’t really bother her at first, she had decided to buy herself a mini fridge after she came home from a week-end away to find out there was nothing left to eat.

“What’s going on?” Clarke asks.

She’s about to add more, but once she sees the scene in the kitchen, she stops.

“Is that…”

“Murphy will never dare me to do anything, that rat.” Octavia scoffs, patterns of dark lines engraved in her skin.

From what Clarke understands, Raven is helping the tall girl to clean the freshly made tattoo, as it is situated partly on her back and behind her shoulders blade. It occupies a large place on her pale skin. It’s made of black lines crossing each other in a stunning design. She has no idea what it means, but she suspects it is related to Octavia’s interest in wars and epic battles in history.

“You did not!”

“Oh course she did!” Raven interrupts. “You should have seen Murphy’s face. Bellamy was about to murder him.”

“Bell needs to realize I’m not his little sister anymore.” Octavia says. “He acts all big and possessive but I could probably kick his ass if I tried. But I won’t. I’ll give him a poor chance to protect himself.”

Clarke chuckles. Octavia can say anything she wants, Clarke knows Bellamy would give his life to protect her. She has never seen two siblings as close as these two, and despite being a destructive duo when together, Clarke would be willing to bet all she possesses on the fact that they deeply care for each other.

“What is it anyway?” Clarke points to the lines.

“Just a normal war design. It means always improving oneself. Warriors used to mark themselves for each kill they made, but I thought that was a bit morbid. Plus, I never actually killed anyone.”

Clarke frowns. War design? The artist in her can’t truly believe Octavia would have chosen to mark her skin with such gruesome meaning, even if it means improvement.

“Stop looking at me like that, Griffin! It also represents strength and loyalty, not blood and murder.” Octavia rolls her eyes.

“I thought you’d be the kind of person to choose a butterfly or a cute pony instead.” The blonde girl mocks.

“First of all, ‘my little pony’ is a classic. Second, you should have seen the tattoo artist.” Octavia goes on. “He was so handsome, I couldn’t just pick something like a butterfly. I would have tattooed him myself with something other than a needle. And it would have lasted longer than the two hours of torture I just went through.”

“I’m sure Bell was enchanted to hear that.”

“His name is Lincoln. You should have seen him, Clarke, even his name fits him. He was probably some kind of badass warrior in another life.”

Raven finishes cleaning the complex design while Clarke listens to Octavia listing all the reasons why she can’t wait to go back to the tattoo shop for touch ups.

“All done!” The mechanic student says proudly. “Now if it gets infected, it’s entirely your fault because my job is flawless.”

“Thanks Rae, you’re the second best!”

“Second?” Raven asks, falsely insulted.

Raven is not ‘second’ anything. Never has been, never will be.

“Did you even look at Lincoln when we were there?” Octavia winks.

“You meet a guy for an hour and he’s already surpassed your best friend in the whole universe?! I’m hurt!”

“I thought I was your best friend in the whole universe.” Clarke says while throwing the remaining of her apple in the garbage, after considering throwing it at Raven’s head.

“And YOU are, babe!” Raven smiles widely and blinking innocently. “I won’t waste my time on someone who says I’m SECOND best in the universe, when we all know I’m number one.” She continues while glancing disgustingly at the dark haired woman.

“Shame on you, O, you’re wrong. Rae, you know I will always pick you first.” Clarke tragically mimes. “In all universes and galaxies, in past, present and future lives, I’d pick you first!”

Octavia laughs and pretends to throw up as her two dorks of roommates dramatically run toward each other in slow motion, embracing each other like two lovers who have been separated for too long.

“Please, don’t pretend like this isn’t what you and that Lincoln man will become in a few years.” Raven speaks from Clarke’s neck where her face is buried.

“You can pretend to be sick when that happens.” Octavia simply replies. “I’m going to bed, you losers. It’s late, where have you been, Clarke? You finished working three hours ago. We’ve tried calling you but you never answered.”

There is a small moment of silence, and Raven eventually looks up to see what has her blonde friend frozen in place.

“Clarke?” She narrows her eyes. “You smell coffee like you just left work. That doesn’t make sense. How did I not notice this?”

“I just came home and you didn’t hug me immediately like you usually do because you were too busy taking care of someone who calls you ‘number two’. It’s nothing… just the girl I met at some bar. I saw her again today and we decided to talk. You’ve seen her at Jasper’s party. Actually, you harassed her at Jasper’s party.” She glares at Raven.

Octavia is by their side in a moment, all thoughts of sleeping dismissed, fixing her friend with the eyes of a detective. She has a wicked grin on her face and a look that says…

“Spill it all, Griffin! I thought she was just a random friend of Jasper and you’re telling me you’ve been seeing her more? How come we’re only learning about it now? You usually suck at keeping secrets.”

“Thanks O.” The blonde shakes her head.

Clarke hesitates only a fraction of second, until Octavia threatens her to call her mother and tell her that her precious daughter was absent for most of the night, and came home smelling alcohol and sex, which Raven supports fully.

“Fine… but don’t ask for a name, I don’t know it. And no phone number either.” To which Raven’s eyes light up even more. Juicy gossip has always been her thing.

She starts explaining to her friends where she was and what she has been doing, sparing a few details along the way, including the way they met. When she is done, she waits for the looks of approbation she knows she will receive. Clarke has been away from the whole dating scene since Finn turned out to be a stupid moron, and she knows Octavia and Raven wants nothing more but for her to get her ass back there.

“Way to go, girl!” Octavia pats the blonde’s shoulder. “It sucks that you two are obviously blind to love when it’s flashing in your face, but I’m glad to see you’re getting your game back. And I’m talking real game, not sex game. We all know you got the sex part done anyway.”

“It’s not love. We’re not in one of your romance novels.” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“I’m mad at you.” Raven frowns. “What in the world are you doing home right now?! Shouldn’t you been doing the do right now?”

Clarke decides that next time she wants to know what is keeping her friends awake in the middle of the night, she will wait until next morning. They tend to both have too much energy to question her whenever they speak in the middle of the night. She can’t believe she thought it would be different tonight.

“We did it.” She admits. “But - ”

As soon as she says the words, she knows she’ll regret them, and she is right, as she is interrupted before she can place another one.

“Clarke, let me rewind this thing. You guys had sex? Then, you meet the hot girl again and you willingly decide to talk to her instead of getting it on, really?” Raven smirks at Clarke’s flustered look.

“It’s not all Clarke’s fault.” Octavia argues thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you she was not on your level. You don’t even know her name but you already talked about stars and deep subjects. Maybe it’s just a different type of relationship.”

It’s meant to be a joke, Clarke knows it, but she somehow can’t help but think Raven is wrong. Those emerald eyes are so full of everything. That woman is definitely on her level, if not more. Maybe the timing is just wrong. Clarke doesn’t like the way it bothers her so much. She shouldn’t be thinking about it.

“It’s complicated.” Clarke says. “I think… we’re both in different places at the moment. There’s something about her… I don’t want her to run off.”

“You be carefully, Griffin,” Octavia says. “I don’t want you to run off either. You said it yourself, you don’t know her that much yet. I met Lincoln for two hours and I already have a phone number. You still don’t.”

“We made that choice to not share it,” Clarke answers.

“You have Lincoln’s number because if your tattoo turns out to be infected, you’ll need help.” Raven also says.

“THE POINT IS, be careful, Clarke.”

Clarke agrees. She knows Octavia cannot be more serious. She can tell by the way her first name was used. She doesn’t add anything more about the subject. She has seen worlds of divine complexities hidden in those forest eyes, and she doesn’t want to share the secret with anyone else. She wants to be the one discovering those enigmatic wonders, when the time is right.

“So you didn’t answer our calls because you were too busy sharing about stars?” Raven questions. “Octavia could’ve died on the table and you would have never known it! Bellamy would have never forgiven you!”

Clarke regrets the day she became friends with such drama queens.

“Bellamy would forgive me for wanting to spend time with a girl, and you know it.”

“Does that mean my life is worth a stranger’s conversation?” Octavia complains, offended by such a revolting idea.

“Wait a minute! You didn’t answer my calls and you always do… Does that mean I’m also second best in Clarke’s life now?” Raven pouts.

Clarke rolls her eyes and walks to her bedroom, ignoring the aggressive shouts she still hears behind her. Octavia and Raven are back as a team, both against her, forcing her to sound retreat. She doesn’t want to be interrogated by this version of the FBI, not tonight, not ever.

She finds shelter in the darkness of her room, using only her phone to light up her way to her bed. She falls on the soft mattress and closes her eyes. It’s nearly three in the morning, and all she can think about, as she stares at the glow in the dark stars stuck on her ceiling, is that she can’t wait to go back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mistakes. Again. (Canadian clichés are real guys)
> 
> Next chapter: "Coping Mechanisms", in which Anya is cool and Nia isn't.
> 
> Time since the fire: One year and eleven months.
> 
> GUYS, SEASON 3 OF THE 100 IS SO CLOSE! SO. CLOSE. I CAN ALMOST FEEL DEATH CLAIMING ME.


	6. Coping mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some might notice the summary of the story has changed. I just can't decide. Summaries are the worse part of a story tbh (beside the title, which should make sense soon i guess).
> 
> I changed the title for 2 reasons, first I picked the previous one at like 3 AM when I first posted the story and it always somehow bug me so I knew I'd eventually change it. Second, it fits the story better, according to me.
> 
> In which Anya is cool and Nia isn't.

**Coping mechanisms**

It’s still early in the morning, yet the sun is already high in the sky. A blue, perfect, cloudless sky. It looks like the calm after the storm. Or before the storm, Lexa is not sure. She’s jogging. She’s working out. She finds it calming and the way her muscles react to the pressure makes her feel more alive than anything else.

It has been a while since she went for a run, but then again, she found out that she does a lot of things differently since she met the seductive C in her uncle’s bar, nearly 3 months ago. They spent two of those months in contact, through the Ark, because they still haven’t exchanged numbers.

Two little months, yet Lexa feels like it has been way longer. The complicity between them was undeniable. When she comes home at night after an evening spent at the Ark coffee house, she surprises herself by falling asleep with no blaze tornado in her mind, but rather with the quiet whipers of the wind.

During the day, it is another story.

When she doesn’t meet with her new friend, she is busy massacring the army of dark thoughts that never dies. 

Lexa is running, empty streets to empty streets, trying to maintain her thoughts in a small ‘anti-C’  and ‘anti dark thoughts’ circle, but failing miserably. She has earphones plugged to her phone, but she doesn’t press the play button. They don’t work, and she knows it perfectly. She only wears them to give her the impression of being busy listening to something rather than hearing her own mind.

She thinks everyone has used earphones to pretend to look busy at some point. She keeps them for this exact reason.

There’s also the fact that they were Costia’s favorite, but Lexa desperately tries to convince herself she will be able to throw them away when she gets new ones.

They’re old pieces of wires, not functioning. They are the only thing that belonged to Costia that didn’t burn, surprisingly, and that Lexa can bring with her everywhere.

She knows it might be unhealthy, to cling to the past so much.

She finishes her run a little before seven, and goes back home to wake her roommate up. Anya works only at ten, but she always needs a full hour to get ready, and an additional hour to cross the city. Most of the time, her roommate doesn’t set an alarm, claiming Lexa makes so much noise that is it impossible to sleep through.

Anya has plenty of time to sleep another hour, but Lexa knows her roommate won’t stay in bed if she wakes up.

Lexa denies all accusations of making noise, but secretly slams the door whenever she walks in their place, enjoying their breakfast time together no matter how awkward they have been since Costia’s death.

She thinks this morning will be different. She knows this morning will be different.

She has been slowly healing herself through her meetings with C, through exchanged words and silly jokes, through coffee whipped cream and warm drinks, through celestial eyes and forest breezes.

She moves to take a shower and accidently slams the bathroom’s door as well.

When she exits the bathroom, it’s her bedroom’s door that goes boom as she closes it to give herself the intimacy to change in clean clothes.

She always slams the three different doors because she figures slamming the same one three times would be damageable to the wood.

When, after taking an irrational long time to dress, she leaves her room, she pretends to be surprised to see Anya sitting at the kitchen table with a sleepy look on her face.

“Good morning.” Lexa says. “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so earlier.”

Anya stares at her with a look of disbelief.

“I’m honestly considering the option to have all doors removed from this apartment.” She yawns.

“You would rather risk having strangers murdering you in the night than handle innocent noise?”

“I knew you did it on purpose. What’s your deal, no one should be awake at this time. You’d know that if I was president. Unfortunately, I am not. Yet.”

Lexa enjoys the fact that Anya never loses her humor, no matter what time of the day.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you make coffee?”

Anya nearly spits hers when her brain finally registers the question. Lexa never drinks coffee. Lexa used to see coffee and ban Anya to her bedroom because she couldn’t bear the sight of anyone drinking in Costia’s old cup.

 “I think I’m still sleeping.” She mumbles, sipping her own cup of coffee and not answering the much more wide awake woman.

It was already surprising enough to see Lexa go out more frequently for the past weeks, but drinking coffee is whole other level the blonde woman is not ready to believe.

“I’m serious.” Lexa moves to the coffee maker.

“So am I!” Anya exclaims, not understanding the sight. “And no, I only make enough for me… because you don’t drink coffee, remember?”

She then decides that caffeine has nothing on Lexa making coffee to wake her up from the semi sleeping state she is in.

“Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?”

“I’m Lexa Woods and I have not lost my sanity. I just want to try something different.”

It is only then that Anya realizes they have exchanged more words this morning already than for the past weeks, and they have not even spent ten minutes together yet.

“Explain.”

“What?”

“I will be nice and wait until you get yourself a cup of coffee, but you’ll have to explain to me why you’re suddenly going out, socializing, drinking freaking coffee and, god forbids, having the first decent conversation with me since forever.”

Her tone leaves no possibility of escape. She looks at Lexa with serious eyes and a somber expression on her face, like she’s trying to decipher something, like she’s trying to read between the lines.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for you to regain your life… but I deserve an explanation.”

The delectable scent of coffee disperses itself in the kitchen and Lexa suddenly feels guilty for neglecting their friendship for so long. She might have been dating Costia, but Anya lost a close friend as well, and they never truly shared the weight of this lost together.

It was always Lexa blaming herself, and Anya putting her own pain aside to avoid another tragedy.

She pours herself a cup of caffeine and adds one spoon of milk and a cube of sugar under the perplexed look of her roommate. She takes the chair next to Anya’s and faces her.

It is the first homemade coffee Lexa drinks, and she almost feels nervous knowing her usual company is not there to share the moment.

Anya almost suspects that Lexa being back to her old self and drinking coffee the same way their deceased friend did is part of a whole prank. She wouldn’t even be surprised if it was the case, because she is rarely home, and Lexa could have very well set hidden cameras everywhere.

“I’m… better. I really am.”

There is pause that neither dares to break.

“I met someone.”

A second pause follows, and Anya has to resist the reflex to make a comment about a possible romantic involvement, as it is still a fragile subject. She knows Lexa needs time to organize her ideas, but she still wishes it wasn’t the case.

“We are friends, I believe.” Lexa takes her first sip of coffee and winces. “She works at the Ark. It was her favorite place and I started going back.”

She avoids naming Costia’s name and both notices it.

Anya then wonders if Lexa really likes coffee or is forcing herself to drink coffee. It makes no sense. This whole morning makes no sense.

“We met three months ago. I’m sorry I never told you. It was unexpected and I didn’t think I would see her again. We talk sometimes. I visit her at work. I started drinking coffee there. It is… tolerable. I would add more milk, but…”

The rest of the sentence is swallowed with the second sip.

“That’s really good, Lexa,” Anya encourages.

“We had sex.”

“Excuse me?” Anya almost chokes on the piece of toast that was on her mouth. She had expected anything, but that. “You what, now?”

Lexa sighs uncomfortably. She had not meant to blurt it out this way.

“I met her at Gustus’s bar. We had sex. We were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything and we parted way. I had no intention of meeting her again.”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about and you’re basically telling me a cliché story of soulmates.” Anya rolls her eyes. “Why does this thing never happen to me?”

“Because you stopped going to bars.” Lexa reminds her.

Anya used to be a wild animal in the night life, and she forced herself to stop when she saw how it was affecting her relationship with the other two musketeers. Coming back home in the earlier hours of the morning, forgetting to pay bills and neglecting quality time with her two friends had become too frequent.

She had been afraid at first, that Lexa would go down the same rabbit hole after they lost Costia, but her friend had always been slightly more responsible than her. Of course, her friend would, more times than not, be carried home by Echo, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as how Anya used to be.

The only outcome from Lexa’s escapades was the reduction of quality time between the two of them, but Anya could not blame her for it.

“So, you made a friend.” Anya asks for confirmation. “Gustus never told me about this, the old man will hear about me.”

“Don’t be so preposterous.”

“You’re a walking dictionary, has anyone ever told you to speak like a normal human being? You need to give the others a chance to understand, including me.”

Lexa ignores the question and focuses on the cup in her hand.

“Is she a… friend?”

“She is only a friend.” Lexa claims as butterflies in her stomach beg to make her think otherwise. “I have been going back to the Ark since we saw each other again. I enjoy spending time with her.”

“No need to be so formal,” Anya grins, almost beaming at the poor girl, “I’m happy for you. You need this, this change of atmosphere. It will be good for you.”

“I know. I just… I am uncertain of where we are heading to.”

Lexa’s hesitation is all Anya needs to figure out the “only friend” statement might not be as concrete as she thought.

“You want to know what I think?”

It is a rhetorical question and Anya does not wait one more second to go on.

“You’re going out. You’re talking to me. You’re sharing this with me. We are eating breakfast together and not staring awkwardly at the walls. You probably won’t stay home today, hell, you probably even have plans! You RAN this morning. I never thought I’d be happy to see you all sweaty and smelly, but I am! You came back home at two in the morning with a SMILE on your face, and yes, I was pretending to not look at you.”

“I knew it.”

“Not the point! The point is, you’re slowly moving on.”

“I am not.”

The way those three words are pronounced, slowly and jaw clenched, makes Anya slows her enthusiasm a little. She doesn’t want Lexa to put an end to their conversation, not when it is going so well so far.

Anya is impressed by the way Lexa makes so many efforts to _not_ move on. She feels awful for her friend. Lexa does not seem to realize that moving on does not mean forgetting.

“I chose the wrong words.” The slightly older woman apologizes carefully. “I only meant that you were slowly building yourself back. I know you don’t want to believe me when I say it, but you were a total wreck, Lexa. You were not happy. You didn’t see it because you refused to look at a mirror for three weeks after she was gone. You refused to even eat, because you could always relate memories to whatever we were having. You didn’t take care of yourself and you were constantly mumbling things about weakness and crap.”

Anya knows her words may sound harsh to Lexa, but the girl needs to hear them. She needs to realize her progress. She needs to acknowledge it, or she will never see how much she achieved. And she needs to understand the importance of her achievement if she wants to truly move on and not be afraid to love again.

“It is weakness.”

Anya doesn’t question what “it” means. She has heard this speech so many times she can recite it herself. She chooses to ignore Lexa’s intervention.

“You’re on the road to be you again. Maybe not the exact same person you used to be, because I know I’m not the same either… you can’t expect to be after that happens, but close to. You went from spending nights at Gustus’s bar, not coming home until I left for work, to sleeping full nights and looking very much _alive_. You know what I think, Lexa? I think that this, whatever bond you share with this girl you met, is good.”

Lexa remains silent.

“I’m not saying she saved you. You don’t need anyone to save you.” Anya concludes. “I’m saying she gave you the little push you needed to start saving yourself.”

Lexa empties the rest of her drink in the sink.

She doesn’t like the taste when C is not there.

“You’re going to be late for work.” She finally answers.

“Are you going to ignore the whole speech?” Anya complains. “I’m serious, keep that in mind. You might not have needed me back then, but I’m not giving up on you now just because you decide to act like such a stubborn child.”

The blonde woman then looks at the time and realizes that Lexa is right, she is going to be late for work. She sighs. It would not be the first time, but she starts cleaning her plate anyway, her breakfast long gone.

She puts the dishes away while Lexa remains at the table, not moving. The brunette can feel the earphones burning a hole in her pocket. She knows Anya’s words were hard, but she also accepts the truth behind them. They hit her iron will and leave a mark.

Lexa waits until Anya is ready to leave the apartment before getting up. She feels the focused look her friend is giving her, and almost stills at it.

“I know what I had with Costia was different from what you shared with her. I know that.” Anya whispers slowly. “But she is gone, and you are alive. This is the point you have to focus on, no matter how difficult that is.”

Lexa’s eyes start to burn with the familiarity of tears. She does not allow them to fall.

“That girl you met, she’s good with you?”

Lexa nods imperceptibly, but Anya always catches it, after years of practice. They have no secrets from each other, no matter how much Lexa tries sometimes.

“You like her?”

They stay like this a long time, Lexa fixing an invisible point at Anya’s left, and Anya piercing eyes drilling through Lexa’s head.

“I think I might.”

The deafening murmur resonates on every wall of the apartment.

“You’re allowed to.”

Anya leaves, and Lexa feels the words washing her guilt away like a benediction.

***

The bar is full when Lexa arrives. She stays at the door for a few minutes before finally moving inside. She isn’t a fan of huge crowds. She always feels like a noose is tightening around her throat.

“Lexa?” Echo’s voice asks. “It’s been a while. I was starting to think Anya had finally knocked some sense into you.”

Hearing a familiar voice is enough to make the noose loosening a little. Lexa wonders if Gustus is here as well. She has not seen him for a while and she could use his wise thoughts.

The girl makes her way to the bar, with the firm intention of not ordering her usual. She had no interest of coming here tonight, but she didn’t want to stay home and wait for another dreadful talk with Anya. She was sure they would have plenty of time some other day.

She asks for a regular beer, and scoffs at the look of incredulity that masks Echo’s face. Lexa starts to think people she hangs out with seem to have that disbelief look permanently whenever she’s around.

“Do you want water already too?” Echo asks.

“Yes please.”

“While I am all for responsible drinking, that wasn’t a serious question.”

“That was a serious answer.”

“Well, it sounds like I’m going to get much less money from you.”

“Gustus owns the place. I do not even have to pay you.”

“You talk a lot tonight…” Echo squeezes her eyes suspiciously as she slides a glass of water toward the other woman. “Anything I should know?”

Lexa has no purpose of getting drunk tonight. She ignores Echo’s question and turns to face the rest of the room. She remembers Anya’s pride look this morning and she doesn’t want to disappoint her the same day by coming home half alive. Not tonight, not anymore, she tells herself.

She drinks her beer slowly and takes a look around. It’s always the same old show. There are people doing shots in a corner, someone trying to steal another person to dance, a group of colleagues coming back from a hard day at work, a group of friends chatting louder than everyone else, lovers making out and trying to hide themselves but failing epically.

She wishes she had stayed to the Ark instead of coming here, but her friend wasn’t working today, and she had no interest of staying there alone.

She almost regrets not asking C for her number, but she thinks that could have lead too far on the road of weakness, or worse.

She refuses to go down that road again. She fights with her mind every night about it while clutching the old pair of earphones tightly. She’s a masochist tortured soul.

She’s about to get up and try to find something to do instead of sitting by herself when she hears familiar voices coming from the entrance.

She looks up and sees her blonde nemesis chatting with the man she remembers as Bellamy and the girl she knows as Octavia. She notices the fresh tattooed skin and mentally approves. She would have never guessed such an innocent looking girl would actually go with the dare, but something about this makes her respect Octavia more.

She shortly wonders if she should go say hello, but her hesitation is cut short when the blonde woman’s eyes meet hers, and it’s all it takes for the sorrowed look to be replaced with the light of a thousand stars.

“Hey stranger! I was hoping to see you tonight.” C smiles widely. “You’ve met the Blake dorks already.”

“Appreciate it, Griffin.” Octavia says flatly. “I’m Octavia. We weren’t properly introduced last time, but I just want you to know that my friend here has not stopped talking about since that party. Are you planning to get married or something? Do I have to give you the speech about how I can break every bone of your body if you hurt her?”

Lexa is taken aback by how blunt Octavia acts. Her non-verbal communication is fearless, forward and steady. She acts like a warrior, unafraid of speaking her mind. What has C told her exactly?

She suddenly realizes what Octavia said.

Griffin.

C’s last name.

C seems to have noticed it as well as her eyes widen.

“Wedding is not in my plans…” Lexa answers hesitantly.

“You should consider it. C here makes excellent pancakes, and it would be a shame to not have her make some for you every morning. Unless you’d prefer another kind of breakfast, which I totally approve as well as long as you’re not too loud because I like my sleep.”

“I will pretend you never said that for the sake of my sanity.” Bellamy sighs.

“Raven told me to tell you to make a move. Our little kid of a friend here will never do it if you don’t.” Octavia continues without giving any attention to her brother. “I have to agree.”

Bellamy’s arm circles C’s shoulder, and Lexa hates the way her own hands automatically clutch.

“Leave her, O, that’s none of your business.” The blonde woman retorts.

“You’ll thank me one day. You would have never come here tonight if it wasn’t for us, so tell your ass to be thankful for me!” Octavia replies. “I’m getting us drinks!”

She leaves for the bar, and Lexa is left with the boy and the girl who vaguely look too close to her liking.

Bellamy does not move his arm. Lexa waits and waits and waits for what seems an eternity, but he looks like a protective boyfriend, and the sight annoys her more than she’s willing to admit.

“Sorry about O.” He says. “She can be intense…”

“Of course.” Lexa nods. “It is a bar after all.”

“She’s right, you know?” Bellamy turns to look at C. “You wouldn’t be there without us tonight. Be thankful and stop looking like your dog just died.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“You would if you weren’t so interested in goldfishes.” Lexa smirks, the inside joke making its way easily outside her throat.

The familiarity should scare her, but she doesn’t feel afraid. She’s glad though, because she is the one responsible for the way C laughs loudly, whereas Bellamy isn’t.

She gives it too much importance. She becomes aware of the fact that she has already stepped on the weakness road.

She shouldn’t care about the way Bellamy’s eyes remain focused on the blonde, and the way they speak together like a duo that has been inseparable since birth. Their interactions are punctuated by a mix of hate and love, and Lexa knows the line is thin between the two emotions.

“The bartender is cute.” Octavia announces when she comes back, juggling with four beers. She kindly offers one to Lexa, who accepts it. “I think she plays for the straight team though. You should go and see her, Bell.”

Lexa silently approves. If this Bellamy guy spends the night with Echo, he won’t be holding C like this anymore.

She doesn’t voice her opinion.

“You know I’m not a relationship guy, O.” Bellamy sighs.

“You just haven’t met her yet! Come on, I have to prove Griffin I can be an excellent matchmaker so she can admit the utility of my advices!” She grabs his arm and both siblings rush to the bar, one more excitedly than the other.

The two women left behind watch them go, and a comfortable silence take place as they sit at a table. Lexa is still dealing with the bittersweet feeling of seeing Bellamy’s arm around her friend.

They cheer and drink a few sips before Lexa opens the conversation.

“Griffin?”

“Octavia has a big mouth for such a frail figure.” C mumbles.

Lexa lets out a small laugh. She knows she has to be fair again. She likes the unique way they learn things about each other. She thinks she wouldn’t mind if this lasted for longer.

“Woods.”

“Thank you,” the blonde woman says, “That's an interesting name. I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I know. Is there a chance I learn your full name one day?” She asks.

“Whenever you want. I like the mystery though, don’t you?”

“You would be right.”

They smile at each other, and Lexa feels like this smile is worth more than Bellamy’s embrace. They are eternal accomplices, and Lexa thinks she might have gone to the bar with the instinctive hope of meeting C again.

Lexa’s phone buzzes, but she ignores it.

“I had a bad day.” The blonde starts after a moment. “It’s the reason O and Bell thought it would be great to come here. I didn’t come back to pick up strangers. What we did… I don’t usually do that.”

Lexa nods. She isn’t sure why her friend needs to specify that but she listens. She wouldn’t think something like that about C, of course, but she is still grateful for the alternative explanation.

 “My ex called twice today. He spoke to my mom. He’s a persistent pain in the ass.”

Lexa nods. She doesn’t even know who the ex is, or what he did exactly, but she already dislikes him with fervor.

“Then my mom started talking to me about medical school and how I should make it my priority. We had a fight. Again.”

 Lexa does not respond. She waits patiently for C to explain further.

“She just doesn’t get me. She never does. One day, she thinks I’m too young to deal with the truth and the next, she’s blaming me for things I didn’t know I was responsible for.”

Lexa has a feeling this conversation is about more than just a simple fight. There is something additional hidden under those words, but she does not dig. It’s not her job to extract all painful memories from another person. Her only care right now is to listen to what she is offered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” C laughs bitterly.

“The mood is not ruined.”

 _Never with you._ Lexa thinks.

“I just need more alcohol.” She downs the rest of her beer and waits for Lexa to do the same.

“Alcohol is not always the right solution.” Lexa advises.

“I don’t care. Tonight it is.”

“It is not.”

“Don’t be such a mood killer!”

Once the empty bottles are facing each other, C goes to the bar to order more while the green eyed girl waits for her. She didn’t tell C she didn’t plan to drink tonight, but she knows it will take her more than a few beers to get drunk anyway.

She notices again that her plans never seem to last very long these days.

She’d like to tell C that drinking is not a good idea when one is mad. It is the worst thing she could do to cope, really, because the relief she feels at the perspective of forgetting her problems tonight will turn to a painful headache the next day.

She’d like to offer her shoulder to C, and tell her to cry if she’s upset, because sometimes it is all that is needed. She would like to share stories about passing out from alcohol, and waking up, regrets bubbling in her soul by things she did under the effect of that poison.

She’d like to be an anchor, a lighthouse to guide the golden haired woman when she gets lost in the current of her own hurricane. Lexa wishes she could tell her that drinking will not take the anger away, but rather that anger will worsen her ability to cope.

She would like a lot of things, Lexa realizes, but she is unable to communicate them.

And even if she did tell her, Lexa sighs, maybe C already knows it and chose to close her eyes on the hard facts.

She gets lost in her thoughts and realizes only thirty minutes later that C has yet to return. She has been sitting at their table alone, and a group of friends is asking her if she needs the extra chair. She gives them both, and makes her way toward the bar.¸

She notices a few things immediately.

First, Octavia and Bellamy are in a deep conversation with Echo, though the latest only have eyes for the second one.

Second, there are five empty shots on the counter, in front of which stands her now drunk friend, who holds another glass in her hand.

Third, said friend is laughing with another person, a woman that is clearly not Lexa.

She hopes the first shots were not all taken in thirty minutes by her friend, but she has the bad feeling they were.

That would explain the way C stumbles and speaks in such a slurry way. Lexa silently curses under her breath. She thinks of Anya, and the way the situation is vaguely familiar to past days where she and Costia would find her in the middle of the night.

She then curses the Blake siblings for being oblivious to the scene, though she notices them glancing to their friend from time to time. It is not enough for her, but it’s better than nothing.

“I think you have had enough.” Lexa tells her when she reaches her.

“Hey! Meet my new friend! I’ve just met her and she’s already offered me drinks for the night!” C points to the woman she had been talking to before Lexa interrupted them. She’s so clumsy by the alcohol that she partly spills her drink on the counter.

Lexa is about to tell the other woman to leave them alone, but all words cease to exist when she turns around to face her.

Her blood stops running through her veins and her brain implodes. For a moment, Lexa feels as she has died and gone to hell.

“Nia.”

The name barely makes it out of her mouth.

She has had nightmares about this name for the past decade.

Costia had had nightmares about this name for the past decades as well before she freed herself.

This face haunted her deceased girlfriend for the last years of her life. That body, slightly taller than Lexa, had casted its shadow on them years ago. Short light brown hair that fall on each shoulder perfectly, dark eyes that are capable of defying the greatest of this world, and a mouth able to profane the worst, are everything that makes Nia the monster she is.

“You know each other?” C asks, pleased with herself, oblivious to the change of air around her. “I pick the right ladies.” She pats her own shoulder as she finishes her drink in a few eager swallows.

The woman now identified as Nia stares at Lexa before an innocent smile marks her face.

“We do.” Nia’s voice is calculated, precise in its shot to Lexa’s heart. “It’s nice to see you again, how have you been?”

The woman is polite, and careful not to say anything wrong, Lexa knows it. Lexa also knows she has been flirting openly with C. From the amount of alcohol flowing in C’s body, Lexa feels that flirting was not her only goal.

“What did you do?” Lexa scowls C, ignoring Nia. “You’ve already had too much to drink. Echo?” She turns to the bartender.

“I’m sorry!” The bartender defends herself. “She looked like she needed shots.”

“Just because she looked like she needed them does not mean you should have given them!”

“Calm down. I have a job to do. You were like that too! Since when do you even care?” Echo frowns.

Lexa is boiling inside. She is attacked by flashes of the past and she cannot stop them from invading her mind. She is reminded of sleepless nights comforting Costia while the girl cried herself to sleep. She is taken back to empty eyes and fraudulent smiles.

She is brought back to perpetual insults and never-ending threats, poisonous text messages and false advertisement on the web.

She is in a time machine and can’t escape it.

She remembers Nia's voice, chasing Costia, hunting her and pushing her towrd a giant black hole, in which she will invitably be swallowed.

She can hear Anya’s voice calling her over the sound of water jets.

She is walking in the middle of burnt walls and mountains of ashes.

She sees a letter sent to her porch, a small condoleance note written in an atrociously familiar writing, the same one that has sent thousand of vile words to Costia.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks in a position that suggests he is ready to go to war.

“What’s going on is that you can’t keep your eyes on your friend.” Lexa harshly responds.

“You obviously can’t either.” Bellamy replies, not missing a beat.

“I was not next to her at the time. Had I been there, I would have stopped her. On the other hand, you were.” Lexa’s threatening tone grows louder.

They start arguing, observed by Octavia, and momentarily forget about Nia until Lexa sees her handling C another drink.

“No way.” She orders, stealing the glass from her hand. “You’re not drinking anymore tonight.”

“You’re not my mom.” The blonde woman grumbles. “I can drink if I want to.”

The sapphire eyed girl keeps drinking.

“Do you even remember your name?” Octavia asks, half laughing, half serious.

Octavia is not stupid. She knows C’s drinking too much, and she’s grateful for Lexa’s intervention. Her roommate has not drank that much for a very long time, and she’s ready to bet anything it’s related to the presence of that mysterious Nia's encouragements.

“I can’t say because I don’t know hers yet.” She points at Lexa. “Bet your name is something that sounds super hot or something.”

“Let her be.” Nia interrupts. “Here, drink, pretty lady. What are you doing here tonight, all alone?”

Lexa’s willpower wears thin as she looks at C voluntarily downing the rest of the drink, and slamming the glass so hard on the counter it almost breaks.

“Whoops. Sorry. I’m not alone.” The blonde mutters.

“Are you sure?” Nia replies. “You were miserably lonely when I found you. You were all mumbling incoherents things.”

"I was waiting for some drinks. Good thing you came here."

Lexa rolls her eyes. She's a tiny drop grateful that C is drunk, because otherwise, she would have never forgiven those words. She curses Nia's ability to attract people so easily. She wishes the woman was as physically repugnant as her mental state truly is.

"I know," Nia smiles like a snake. "You should ditch your friends and spend the night with me. If they left you alone, don't you want to be with someone who will listen instead? Who will let you live your night the way you truly wants it?"

C nods avidely, her mind too far gone to realize the manipulative message underneath the proposal.

"See? You won't ever be alone with me, because I'm not like them."

"She didn't leave me alone." The wasted woman quietly protests, pointing a shaking hand at Lexa.

"Are you sure? She did take a long time to come see you, and when she did, she took your drinks from you! Doesn't sound like an excellent friend to me." Nia explains calmly, as C seems to think about those words.

Lexa breathes deeply and exhales loudly.

"You don't want to be alone tonight, do you?' Nia's voice sounds like a church bell in the middle of the night, meant to be reassuring, but signaling deathly danger.

“Hey!” Bellamy finally yells. “She’s not!”

“I was simply stating the truth.” Nia gently declares.

Octavia wants to interrupt them, but she doesn’t. She knows her friend has had a terrible day, and it is her duty as best friend to make sure C changes her mind. The look she receives from Lexa is enough to make her doubt her conviction, and she wishes Raven didn’t have an essay to finish tonight.

She’s thankful for Bellamy’s intervention though, because she has a feeling she wouldn’t have liked Nia’s future words.

 “What’s do we do?” Bellamy whispers to Lexa. “I mean sure, Nia doesn’t look like the nicest person on Earth, but C is not in danger, she’s just having fun.”

Lexa wants to answer that danger and fun are sometimes really close notions, especially with someone like Nia, but she doesn’t. She can’t expect them to understand when they ignore the full story.

“Nia is not reliable.” She whispers back. “She will take your friend’s life, and make sure it is destroyed when she leaves this place. You don’t have to believe me, but I strongly suggest you do, and that you start right now.”

The way she speaks is final, and Bellamy exchanges a worried glance with her sister. They communicate silently with each other, unsure of what to do, and who to trust. They’re not playing jokes anymore.

“We’re leaving.” Lexa says coldly and gestures at C.

“Already?” Nia asks. “The night is still young. Plenty of time to get to know each other. You have to lower your defenses sometimes.”

She takes her own glass filled with a bright red cosmopolitan cocktail and takes a slow sip, never breaking eye contact with Lexa, except to throw a seductive wink at C. If Lexa was not so focused on controlling her own breathing, she would have laughed at the cliché scene, the villain drinking the blood of her victim. 

“Me want to stay.” Clarke mutters. “We’re having fun! Told you I could be fun!”

“Stop talking, Griffin.” Octavia whispers. “You’re getting us in trouble.”

“I would stop talking if I had a drink in my hand, but NO, you’re all boring tonight. It was YOUR idea to come here, O. YOU told me to go out to forget about my miserable life! YOUR words! Take my side here, Bell!”

"I also told you we'd come with you to make sure you wouldn't spiral down the way you used to. I promised Raven."

Trying to ignore the slight argument between the two best friends, Lexa thinks of a polite way to tell Nia to get away from them, but can’t seem to find it. All she wants to do is throw her fist at the woman’s face and redecorate it.

“She wants to stay!” Nia exclaims, visibly being nourished by Lexa’s troubles. “Let her stay, don’t be such a heartless friend.”

Lexa’s jaw clenches and her eyes are set on fire.

“We are going.” She repeats while Bellamy tries to help the blonde woman to get up without falling.

“I don’t want to go!”

“Come on, Griffin. We’re moving. You’re already drunk anyway.” Octavia seems to have accepted Lexa’s point of view, and the insistence of Nia to get even more drinks in her best friend’s system is starting to worry her.

The Blake siblings somehow manage to stabilize their friend’s posture and make her walk a few hesitating steps. They wait for Lexa to follow them before exiting the bar. Echo has returned to serve other clients, but they can feel her watching the scene, one hand away from the phone. They watch in interest as the two other women face each other.

“What a boring life you must have.” Nia says.

“Stay away from my friend.” Lexa threatens. “Attack her and you attack me.”

“Alas, I did not attack her.”

“You would have.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

They stare at each other for long time, Nia with a superficial tremendous kindness in her eyes, Lexa's with guns firing repeatedly at her opponent. Lexa feels control escaping her once again. She has stopped counting the number of times her path have met her enemy’s, but whenever that had happened, it always ended the same way, and tonight is no different.

“I’m sad to let you go.” Nia finally allows her victory. “But if you must, then I only have one final thing to say…”

It is a trap coming at a hundred miles an hour, Lexa senses it with her entire being. It is a trap and she is willing to crash into it to save her honor. She doesn’t care if C is observing her with big confused blurry eyes, if Bellamy and Octavia end up having an atrocious opinion of her, or if Echo decides once again to call the cops.

She knows the next words because she has heard them way too many times, and the pain does not disappear. The pain never does.

“Say hello to Costia when you get home.” Nia says with a devilish grin.

Lexa’s fist collides with Nia’s jaw and the sound of it breaking is heard over the multiple voices in the bar.

“What the hell?” She faintly hears C’s voice.

Nia falls to the floor under the impact. Echo’s voice punches a number on the phone at the speed of light as immature people start cheering around them.

Lexa’s hand smashes once again against the other woman’s cheek, and collides again and again and again. She punches her as hard as she can, as if the psychological pain she is suffering from might materialize and withdraw itself through violence.

The last time Nia had spoken those words, Lexa had been able to walk away.

But this time, is it entirely different.

She could not say 'hello' to Costia even if she wanted to.

Costia is not waiting for her at home.

Costia is not here anymore.

Lexa keeps going. She attacks her mercilessly and keeps fighting until the defenseless woman lays on the ground, pushing her back violently. She feels two strong arms pulling her away and Bellamy’s hard grip brings her back to the moment.

She barely registers C’s broken concerned voice asking her what this is all about before she runs outside.

Her hands hurt, and tears are forming in her eyes.

“Let’s go home.”

Bellamy’s voice surprises her.

“I don’t know what this was about,” he goes on, “but you’re hurt. Octavia lives close, you can come with us. Echo called the cops, you don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

Lexa doesn’t have the strength to refuse. She feels C’s eyes on her, but does not look back.

When they arrive at Octavia’s apartment, Bellamy decides to spend the night to make sure nothing else happens. Raven is doing her essay at another’s friend house for the night, and Octavia can sleep in her roommate’s bed while Bellamy takes her sister’s.

They put C, who has passed out on the way, to bed, and set a glass of water and an aspirin next to her bed. The Blake go their own way, and Lexa is left alone to clean her wound.

They offered help, but she refused. They put an air mattress in C’s room. By the time Lexa is ready to sleep, it is three in the morning, and she thinks she sees Octavia arriving in C’s room, a book in hand, as if the girl was going to spend the night awake, looking after them.

She has a feeling the Blake woman has done this before.

She falls asleep with pain her limbs and turmoil in her mind.

***

Lexa jerks awake in the early hours of the day. The sun is up in the sky, but she can’t hear anything. The memories of last night roll on her all at once, and she remembers where she is. The pain at her joints is a violent reminder of how the night ended.

Her first thought is about Costia, but she dismisses it as fast as it appears. She cannot be thinking about it right now. It is too much and it feels like all progress will be erased if she thinks about it impulsively.

Her second thought is about Anya, and she hopes her friend doesn’t have the wrong idea about her. She has to go home soon. She feels like a child going home to her awaiting mother.

She doesn’t have a third thought until she hears the sound of someone throwing up in the room next to the bedroom. She assumes it is the bathroom and slowly opens the door.

“Fuck…” The blonde girl whines as her hands grip the sides of the toilet seat.

Lexa knows the feeling way too well. She holds C’s hair and waits for her to empty her stomach. When it finally passes, she sits by her side on the bathroom’s floor. She hesitates a millisecond before reaching for C’s hand and holding it securely.

They remain silent for a long time, and Lexa listens to the other girl's breath steadying. She knows it is the first hour of a day filled with headaches and sensibility to everything and everyone around.

“I’m never drinking ever again.”

Lexa smiles. They always say that. She used to say that too.

 “Did drinking make you feel better?” She asks.

She knows the answer before her friend even opens her mouth.

“No.”

Lexa doesn’t add anything. C doesn’t need advice or reprimands. She needs a friend. She needs someone to hold her while the storm passes. She will talk when she is ready.

Maybe they both need the same thing but are too afraid to ask.

“Did punching that woman make you feel better?”

The tone is curious, not judging, yet Lexa sighs deeply. She hoped her friend wouldn’t remember her impulsive behavior.

“No.”

They stay side by side, and flinch when Lexa’s phone beeps three times in a row.

Lexa looks at Clarke apologetically as she stares quickly at the locked screen. She smiles at Clarke as the blonde’s eyes questions what it is about.

“It’s nothing.”

They remain close, recharging through the other’s presence, until Raven comes home, exhausted, and kicks them both out of the bathroom, claiming she needs to shower and remove all trace of school from her body. She orders the blonde woman to shower next, claiming the reek of alcohol is omnipresent, and if she notices their hands still glued together, she does not point it out.

Lexa leaves their house after C falls back to a dreamless sleep.

It is only seven in the morning, and she knows she won’t be able to go back to sleep. She feels like she owes C an explanation, and she needs to reflect on what to say.

She slams the entrance door when she walks in and heads toward the bathroom.

She slams the bathroom’s door and washes away the smell of blood and alcohol that had taken residence on her body.

She slams her bedroom’s door, and takes way too much time to dress herself, patiently waiting to hear Anya’s door open before she exists her own room.

They meet in the kitchen, two cups of coffee already set on the table. Anya’s somnolent eyes meet her worn ones, and a silent agreement that the talk will start after coffee is passed.

They drink slowly, and Lexa cannot tell if it is because she dreads the talk that is coming, or if it is because her brain is not fully awake yet. She concludes it is a bit of both.

When they finally start their second full conversation in two days, Lexa has the urge to reach inside her pocket to grip Costia’s earphones. They represent some sort of safety net.

Her hand meets emptiness and she swallows slowly when she remembers she willingly threw them away after the fight last night.

She doesn't need them anymore.

“Are you okay?” Anya asks when she notices Lexa’s posture stiffens.

The shake of her head is almost unnoticeable.

Today marks the two years anniversary of the fire.

“I will be.” Lexa replies with a lump in her throat.

Anya nods. Despite hearing those words countless times, it is the first she believes them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the mistakes.
> 
> Next chapter: Survival Tale, in which Lexa's story is revealed
> 
> Time since the fire: 2 years
> 
> AN: I've been focusing on finishing this story this week, which is why I update only now. Good news is, I've finished all chapters & they're getting longer in the second half of the story, which is starting right now. Things will pace up a little more. 
> 
> Also, next chapter should be posted soon tomorrow or monday. 
> 
> Also, S3 HAS STARTED


	7. Survival tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven is a protective bestie and Lexa's story is revealed at 90% (because the little 10% is important but not yet, wait for it...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post it yesterday but something came up. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I like it. It's not my favorite though. 
> 
> My favorite is number 10 and it's fluff so stick around despite the angst because you don't want to miss it!
> 
> TW: Mentions of bullying and suicide.

**Survival tale**

Lexa is usually the most diplomatic person when it comes to explanations. She speaks clearly, pronounces each word with the elocution of a queen, and even throws a few impressive words in the mix. She pretends to stay calm so that no one can see she’s struggling to find the right words without letting what she calls ‘weakness’ appears. Her posture is impeccable, because she has to look the part, and her eyes are impenetrable fortresses.

She, however, has the worst timing ever. Never mind the fact that she has been struggling for an entire week to gather the courage to go meet her sky eyed friend, it is not the point.

The point is, when she walked in the Ark coffee just over an hour ago, she had not thought about the fact that it was the middle of C’s shift. She had not realized it was the exact time of rush hour for the little establishment, and she had certainly not apprehended the loudness that would surround the place once it was filled with students.

In short, she has yet to speak with the one person she came here for. She often caught C glancing nervously toward her, as if the artist wasn’t sure why Lexa was there.

The blonde woman has been avoiding Lexa during her break, and Lexa knows it.

Lexa takes a rare bite of the red velvet piece of cake she ordered. She always kept the Black Forest piece for home, and this time she thought she’d keep it for Anya.

She watches patiently as clients come, and sometimes stares at the med student mastering the art of serving five of them at the same time. For a moment, she wonders if Costia would’ve appreciated the blonde woman, as her ex-girlfriend also enjoyed art galleries and art museums.

She then thinks that anyone taking the time to know the mysterious C would automatically appreciate her. She isn't sure where this thought comes from, but she welcomes it.

“Are you always this obvious when you stare at cute girls?”

Lexa looks back to the voice’s direction. Raven is sitting in front of her, staring at her with the most serious face Lexa has ever seen. She is already poking at Lexa’s cake with her own fork, stealing tiny bites.

“I do not stare.”

Raven nods slowly. Too slowly, in a way that clearly demonstrates that she doesn’t believe a word Lexa says.

“You don’t?”

Lexa confirms with a firm nod.

“Oh. My mistake, I’m sorry. I won’t stare at your cake then.” The other girl apologizes.

Raven then proceeds to take the plate in her hands and raises it to her eyes level. She turns the plate around, examining it from all possible angles. She moves it around, looks over it, under the plate, all sides of the piece, and even stab it with her fork to look inside the cake.

Lexa rolls her eyes. She couldn’t have been that bad.

“You know the difference between this cake and C?” Raven asks, careful not to say her friend’s name. She doesn’t know if it has been shared or not, and she would rather not spoil it.

“I was not staring at her like that.”

“Wrong! But nice try!” Raven exclaims. “The difference is…”

She pauses for suspense and Lexa finds it ridiculous. Raven pierces the piece of cake with her fork and takes a huge bite. She moans exaggeratedly at the taste and savors it for long minutes.

“I can take a bite of this cake while you, unfortunately, can’t do the same with my best friend over there.” She winks.

Lexa doesn’t react, though her little voice in her head is screaming to go away. She didn’t come here to be made fun of. But this is C’s friend, and Lexa doesn’t want to have her on her wrong side.

“I’m sorry. That was rude. Normal people usually appreciate my humor.” Raven wiggles her eyebrows. “Because I’m awesome. But you already knew that. I apologize for kicking you out last time. This essay was a pain in the ass and I came home with the sole purpose of drowning myself in the shower.”

Lexa’s thoughts are a mess. First, according to Raven’s words, she is not normal. It’s not meant to be an insult, of course, but the drowning joke makes her want to throw a knife at the girl. She thinks Raven has no idea what it is to be sinking in an ocean of fire.

“Don’t make that face, it’s a joke.” Raven deadpans.

“What do you want?” Lexa says coldly.

“Can’t a girl have a little fun before jumping in the most serious conversation we shall ever have?” Raven questions. “My shift’s done. C’s here for the night. You won’t be able to talk to her unless you’re willing to spend five more hours in this hell house.”

Lexa had no idea Raven worked there.

“I know you didn’t know.” Raven shrugs, as if she has been reading Lexa’s thoughts. “You were staring at C the whole time, which is a shame really, because I was next to her half the time. At first I thought you were intimidated by me, but then I realized you just had chosen the second hottest girl here.”

“I was not.” Lexa continues to claim at Raven’s false offended expression.

The look she receives in response is enough to make her admits to herself that, indeed, she has been staring. She has been drinking the sight of the other woman.

Raven looks around for a while, unsure of what to say. The mechanic student is used to laugh and make fun of things, and she can even repair the most puzzling pieces of electronics, but she can’t seem to start a conversation the right way. She doesn’t want to scare the source of her friend’s happiness away, but she has a feeling she’s headed in that exact direction.

“Octavia told me what happened last time you went out with them," she starts. “I know everything, so if you want to practice your apology speech, hit me. That’s a pun, by the way, I don’t really want you to hit me.”

Lexa’s eyes remain focused on the other woman. She deserves the joke.

“You’re good to C. I know you were holding hands when I walked in that morning. You were looking at the wall, so you might not have noticed, but her eyes were on you. You made her feel safe. That’s when I knew you couldn’t be bad. Well that, and the many times she spoke about you.”

Lexa says nothing. She doesn’t want to say too much. She doesn’t want to assume things she might regret later. She doesn’t want to open up too much to C’s best friend because who knows what conclusion will reach the blonde woman after.

“She’s not mad at you.” Raven offers again, trying to make the girl speak. “She’s confused, but she’s not mad. She was drunk… but you weren’t, from what I heard. She’s been through a lot. If you’re mad at her for drinking too much that one night, I suggest you leave her already. We all cope differently. She drinks, you punch people.”

Raven is being provocative. Lexa’s silence frustrates her, and she wants to make the other girl react. Her roommate has been speaking about that mysterious stranger that came to the Ark for too long. Raven can’t ignore her duty to protect her best friend anymore.

“I’m not mad at her for drinking.” Lexa finally replies.

It’s a start, Raven thinks. She briefly catches her best friend looking at them while she serves coffee to yet another flirty guy. Raven winks at her. The conversation is going as well as possible. The blonde’s eyes shoot lasers at Raven, which the brunette ignores expertly after years of practice of being on the execution stand.

“She has her reasons to be confused about what happened, just like she has reasons to want a few drinks sometimes.” Raven declares carefully. “I don’t agree with that, but even if I did, I’m not the one to tell you about it. But she doesn’t like when people make others their punching bag. She doesn’t like violence. I know you’re smarter than the kind of person who gets overly jealous, but I can’t find another explanation.”

Costia. Costia. Costia. Costia. Costia. Costia.

Nia making Costia her punching bag.

Lexa curses herself for being unable to get this thought out of her head.

“If you cope by punching people, we have the right to know. And I would rather have you away from my friend, no offense.”

Raven sighs and continues:

“C’s been happier. She started being happier a few weeks back, and I’m sure if I cross check the dates, it’s going to be the day you two started hanging out together. I say that because I hate to pressure you this way, but I just don’t want to see her hurt. It’s my duty as best friend to do a background check, I’m sure you can understand.” She finishes with a lighter tone.

Lexa tries to focus her mind on anything else than the words ‘punching bag’.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place to—“

“Blood must have blood.” Lexa whispers through her teeth. She knows it might not be the right thing to say right now, but she can’t help it.

Raven stops. Those words sound torturous and awfully dark.

“You mentioned that we all cope differently. It’s true.” Lexa murmurs. “And while I do agree with you that my behavior was inappropriate, you have no idea what I’ve been through. I would never hurt your friend, but blood must have blood, and this is the only explanation I can offer you.”

The noise from the café disappears around them, and they both feel like they’re facing each other in a huis clos. The blood explanation sounds too morbid to Raven’s liking. It reminds her of death, and she doesn’t want her friend to be near that kind of person.

Lexa vaguely hears her name being called, as well as a ‘stop talking to clients and go back to work’.

“What do you mean? Look, Bellamy had to practically punch you himself to stop you. And from what he understood, you were the one being violent. The other girl, Nia, he told me, didn’t even move a finger.”

 _But she dared to open her mouth and spilled poison at us_ , Lexa thinks.

“It means _Nia_ is someone I’ve dealt with in the past.” The way she says the name is filled with hatred. “And that I do not regret my action. It is something that needed to be done. It is punishment for something that she decided to do years ago.”

Raven sighs tirelessly. She feels like they are going nowhere in this conversation.

“So it’s revenge? You almost killed her because of revenge? For something that happened YEARS ago?”

“I would not have killed her.” Lexa replies surprisingly calm. She wouldn’t risk going to prison for the rest of her life for someone that was definitely not worth it.

“Does it really matter, because it sounds like it was your purpose.” Raven fires back.

“It was an impulsive gesture, I admit. But if you came here for apologies, you should leave.”

Raven shakes her head. Apologies are not needed. It is not her business, and she’s sure there has to be a good explanation. She has to believe that. She came here for one reason only, to make sure her friend would be safe.

“Would you do it again?” The mechanic student asks.

Lexa’s nervous.

If she says yes, she is sure Raven will forbid her to see C, not that it would ever be a problem to her. However, she and C are in an undefined relationship. She fears the blonde would rather follow her best friend’s opinion than the one from a girl she met barely three months and a half ago.

If she says no, it would be blunt lie. And Lexa does not lie.

Thankfully, her phone receives a text message at this exact moment, and she has a few more seconds to reflect on an answer. She glances at her device and sighs.

“Are you being impolite on purpose?” Raven asks. “Answer my question, then your texts.”

“Yes.” Lexa finally admits. “Under specifics circumstances, I would not hesitate.”

Raven adopts a thoughtful face. While she is not surprised by the answer, she hoped it would be different. She glances furtively at her brace and asks:

“Can you control yourself?”

The cake is long forgotten, and the cup of coffee has turned cold minutes ago. Lexa understands the hidden words behind the indirect aspects of the question. She understands Raven’s concern, and respects it. She would do the same, has she been in the same situation.

“If you want to know whether I would ever hit your friend, the answer is no.”

Her answer is direct, confident, and the tone in which is it spoken is unwavering. Lexa’s words are a sealed contract that she does not intend to break, not now, not ever. There are certain people she hates in this world, and C is on the extreme opposite.

“Is the answer subjected to change?” Raven asks sarcastically. “Because I doubt we can get a refund on that.”

“I would never say that if I didn’t mean every word.” Lexa answers like an empress.

“Anyone is capable of anything.” Raven spits back with the tone of someone who’s been through too much to believe such words.

Raven abruptly gets up. She glances at Lexa in a way that orders her to stay and wait for her return if she doesn’t want to suffer terrible consequences.

The music playing makes Lexa nervous. It is slow, but the crescendo of this particular song makes her feel like she is part of a bad horror movie.

The rush hour has passed while they were both concentrated in the conversation, and the other girl comes back only a few minutes later with a cup of iced coffee.

Lexa saw her exchanging a few words with C, but does not ask.

“I was watching a movie with Octavia when C first came home half alive.” Raven’s eyes are focusing at her cup.

Lexa waits for what she feels is going deeper than a simple hanging out story.

“She smelled like alcohol and sex. We hadn’t seen her for two entire days. She never returned our calls and texts. She had been spending her time at some random person’s place. O was mortified.”

Raven plays with the straw and creates a tiny whirlpool in her cup. She looks hypnotized by her own gestures.

“She spent months like that, destroying herself, until she met you. I just asked her when that was, and the dates correspond. I was half hoping that wouldn’t be the case so I could actually be mad at you without feeling bad.” She lets out a sour laugh.

She looks directly inside Lexa’s soul.

“I heard her speaking with Bellamy two days ago. She was angry at your behavior and she had been pacing in our apartment for almost an hour when he came to the rescue. I spied on them, because even if I can trust Bellamy, he’s still a guy, and guys can be stupid when they want to.”

“They care about each other.” Lexa can’t help but interrupt.

She feels jealousy boiling under the surface.

“You can forget that theory of yours right now.” Raven smirks. “They’re not dating, she was never interested in Bell that way. And from what I’ve heard, he met that Echo girl at the bar? Turns out he got her number. Anyway, so he stopped by because O was desperate enough to call him.”

Lexa doesn’t forget that theory of hers. Not yet, anyway.

“He said wise words, for once. I almost filmed the moment and put it on youtube because our little Bell grew up so fast.” Raven pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of her eyes. “So they were talking about how C had screwed up in the past, and of course they got to talking about the way you punched that woman at the bar. And, I mean, she wasn’t mad, she just wanted to make a good decision.”

Raven looks like she’s trying to find the right words and Lexa feels like she’s witnessing a rare event. Scratch that, she’s pretty sure she’s witnessing a rare event.

“He said he thought you must have been dealing with some hard feelings as well, and that whatever they were, you were trying to surpass them. He qualified it the same way he named C’s past drunken habits: surviving. He said you were trying to survive that night, that you would have died under the pressure, or something.”

Surviving.

Lexa is not sure how to interpret it.

“He said… you were doing your best to survive the weight of your burdens, just like C did before she met you. He said you were coping. You were dealing with shit and it wasn’t entirely your fault. He said that kicking this girl’s ass didn’t define who you were as a person, just like C was not herself when she came home dead wasted. He said, if you hadn’t done what you did, you would have died a little under the pain.”

Raven pauses to drink, and a few minutes pass before she speaks again, imitating Bellamy’s voice.

She would lose all credibility, Lexa thinks, if it wasn’t for the force that hits her through the following words.

“He said, who we are, and who we needs to be to survive are two very different things.”

Lexa takes a deep breath when she realizes she had stopped breathing.

***

Raven ended up leaving the place just after an umpteenth silence followed her Bellamy’s imitation. They both agreed that, while they might have a friend in common, it didn’t mean they were the best people to be left together. The mechanic student warned Lexa once again, but it was more of a friendly nudge in the right direction than anything else.

Lexa thought about Nia for a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Echo contacted her the day following the altercation to inform her that she didn’t call the police after all, so there were no charges against her.

It isn’t surprising. Lexa and Nia stopped seeing each other after Costia’s death. It was as if suddenly, Nia didn’t have anything to do with her anymore, as if she had fulfilled her purpose and could now disappear. But just because they didn’t see each other doesn’t mean Lexa was entirely out of Nia’s reach.

Lexa ends up staying in this ‘hell house’ for the remaining hours until C’s shift ends. She knows Raven went to see C again before she left the Ark, and she’s nervous about what was said between the two best friends. She is relieved when she notices C smiling at her when the coffee closes.

She observes as C cleans the place. Despite the rush earlier, the nights are always quiet in the Ark, and only two employees are needed to close the place. Harper, the other employee, left a little earlier after she was told that it was all taken care of.

The lights are turned off and the door is finally locked behind them around eleven thirty, half an hour after the closing time.

“I had a movies night planned tonight.” C’s relaxed traits are lightened up by the moonlight, and Lexa thinks her friend is even prettier than the last time they had a late night talk. “I don’t know what Raven told you, and frankly that’s none of my business, but she came to me after and told me I didn’t have to pick her first this time. Trust me when I say that’s a sacrifice coming from her.”

Lexa nods and swallows the rock in her throat. Raven’s message is clear; talk, or suffer.

“Where shall we go?”

“The Dropship? That park’s safe at night.” C suggests.

The Dropship is right next to the Ark. It’s a memorial park dedicated to the fallen of NASA’s space tragedies.

Clarke finds refuge in its heart every single time she goes there.

They head in that direction, and just like many times before, Lexa’s hand finds C’s without even trying, and both owners look at opposite direction to hide the slight pink color that harmonizes with their skin tone.

They reach the top of a small hill on which rests a lonely bench protected by the shadows of two giant trees. They sit side by side, close, but their sides not quite touching. They watch the remaining light of the distant sun disappears at the horizon.

It couldn’t be more cliché even if they tried, but Lexa couldn’t care less. 

Neither breaks the silence, but they have no intention of leaving this place. Lexa can tell the calm irradiating from C’s body.

Even when the sky turns completely black, the moon masked behind clouds, they stay still, hands holding each other. Even when a cold wind makes them slightly shiver, they remain immobile. Even when Lexa’s ringtone shatters the quiet atmosphere, no words is exchanged, and no movement is made. Even when the clouds navigate to farther places and the stars shine brighter over their head, they remain muted spectators.

“I come here almost every week.” C finally murmurs. “It’s one of my favorite places at night. It’s so peaceful, like the world is moving without dragging us along.”

Lexa also feels the peaceful air entering her body and breathing becomes a little easier.

It feels like being alive.

Despite what people think, despite all the darkness polluting their minds, their bodies still try their hardest to keep them alive. They focus all their power to survival. The brain deals with the constant neuronal activity: transferring data, processing thoughts, regulating breathing, making the heart beat and supervising the flow of the blood and its nutriments.

They breathe the silence.

It’s intoxicating. It’s the poison and the antidote at the same time.

It’s a natural medicine to their damaged souls.

 “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

But Lexa wants to, she just doesn’t know how.

The brunette has been struggling in a war within herself since forever. She always thought she couldn’t win, until tonight.

“I had an excellent day.” C says. “I dropped a cup and broke it when I saw you walked in. Raven laughed at me for ten minutes before our manager told her to get her ass back to work.”

Lexa has never thought she would be so thankful for small talk.

“I almost forced Harper to go on break so I could take your order, but she told me to go flirt somewhere else that wasn’t our work place. I avoided you after that.”

Lexa almost smiles. Almost.

“I messed up nearly all the orders when Raven told me she would talk to you after her shift, and when I realized she was not joking, I messed all of them.”

Lexa smiles.

“I begged our boss to let me finish earlier, but he ignored me. I voluntarily broke the coffee machine, but the only outcome was that Raven has to come in earlier tomorrow to fix it. She made me promise to come with her.”

Lexa’s eyes smile.

“Raven told everyone I was whipped before she left the place. And then proceeded to kick my ass because I was too busy arguing I was not.”

Lexa wonders if C is whipped.

“She said I should talk to you. But she can be intimidating for details. I totally understand if you don’t want to talk. I won’t force you. I won’t even ask you to talk. I just thought it would be a good idea to share about how it’s a miracle I still have job.”

Lexa’s eyes shine with gratitude.

She hasn’t said the name in forever, and the moment she lets it escape, she feels like the earth is opening beneath them. At the same time, she realizes she had nothing to be afraid of.

“Her name was Costia.”

A breeze rises and the air thickens.

Her phone rings again, breaking the moment. She ignores the call, but sets her phone on silent.

“She was harmony. She was the first breath you took after diving too deep underwater. She was the warmness of the sun after a hard lifeless winter. She was the map you craved when you were lost in the fog. She was the master key to impossibilities.”

The sapphire eyed woman is left speechless before such glorious characterization.

“Her name is Nia.”

The wind blows stronger and the universe breaks down.

“She is anarchy. She is the seaweed that keeps pulling you down when you try to resurface. She is the Ice Queen that murders you from hypothermia. She is the labyrinth you don’t realize you’re trapped in until it is too late. She is an open door that leads to hell.”

The words are stated with such loathing that C wonders if Lexa will ever come back from this trance she seems to be in.

“They met when they were child. They became friends. Close friends.” Lexa swallows slowly. “Best friends actually. Nia’s feelings changed to something else, and Costia gave her a brief chance before realizing she didn’t feel this way.”

“Costia became mine later, when we were about to start high school. Nia welcomed me in the group at first. She wished me the best with Costia.”

“When we started dating, Nia was the shadow that would always follow us. She insisted with Costia that it was because she wanted to see if I was good enough for her.”

Clarke rolls her eyes mentally because Lexa is good enough to be the president of the country if she wanted to be.

“It was nothing much at first. She would ask to see my text messages, and I would allow her, because I had nothing to hide. She would invade our lives and conversations. She would insist to be at any of our celebration, and even invited herself at our one year anniversary dinner.”

Lexa sighs at the memory.

“One day she surprised us in intimacy, and instead of leaving us alone, stayed in the room until we were completely dressed. She told Costia she had something important to talk about, and being a good friend, Costia accepted. Nia wanted to ask her if they could see each other the next day.”

“Costia kicked her out.”

Lexa’s smile is nostalgic, approving of the past gesture.

“Nia took it badly. She spent more time with us, and Costia couldn’t convince her to leave us alone anymore. Nia was everywhere. She waited for us at the end of classes, she ate with us during lunch, she pretended to accidently meet us while we were on dates.”

“She started threatening Costia to spend more time with her when she finally realized I was not intimidated. I believe she hoped I would end things, but I didn’t. Instead, she spilled lies like she breathed, and spread illness with her words.”

“Jealousy is clever venom, and because she was mine, Nia tortured her, filled her head with lies that eventually lead to her death.”

Clarke gasps at the words, at the portrayal of such a person.

“She thought, if she couldn’t have Costia’s heart, she would settle for her head. She eventually started stalking her and bullying her with vile words and corrupted rumors.”

“She told Costia I was cheating. She’d turn innocent message texts to nuclear conspiracies. She told Costia she thought I wasn’t enough for her. When that didn’t work, she changed her ways and attacked Costia directly instead.”

“I only realized later that Nia’s behavior was only motivated because Costia neglected her to spend time with me instead.”

Clarke can’t help but think this is the lamest explanation she has ever been given.

“Nia would wait until I was gone to spill tales of treachery to Costia. She would find a way to figure Costia’s number, no matter how many times we changed her phone. She would harass her through the physical world and beyond. She would fill Costia’s digital profile with fiction, and destroy her reputation to any potential career opportunity.”

“School became hell. Costia would be subjected to looks of disapproval by any of our friends. Nia told them she was coercing me in a relationship to make her former best friend jealous. Costia became the representation of a bully, a heartless manipulator.”

“We ignored it at first, but then, Nia planted traps on our ways, and soon, Costia was accused of assaulting me, and we had to meet with the school’s director.”

“When we started to fight back, Nia decided to attack me as well. Costia refused to let this happen, and told me to let it go. She didn’t want me to be involved.”

 Lexa pauses.

Once the gate opens, it is hard to stop the flow, but the weight of her words swamps the ambiance with a sour taste.

It seems even the full moon in the sky can’t lead the haunted woman to a brighter world.

“I did what she told me, and I let it go. We spent a year ignoring Nia’s attempts, and when she finally stopped, I thought we would go back to our peaceful life. We were about to graduate and go to college.”

Silence.

“Costia never went to college. She found a small job, pretended it was because she didn’t know what she wanted to do yet.”

“I was a fool. Nia did not stop. She never did. Costia was mine for four years, and during those days, not one was restful for her. The last two years that I spent ignoring Nia’s existence, Costia spent them fighting her.”

“Nia was a smart enemy. She stopped attacking her in obvious light of the day, rather directing her throws indirectly, through secret notes and anonymous packages.”

“There was not enough proof to call for help. The police would see things Costia didn’t. Nia made sure to disguise her notes, her words, her presence. She wrapped everything in a clean gift box, and only Costia knew the truth behind the gesture.”

“Costia’s head was filled by Nia. She was in her dreams, in her nightmares. She was everywhere, and yet, I was never aware of it. Costia pretended it was nothing, and she put a smile on her face when we started anew in our own place.”

“She told me to trust her. To trust the fact that Nia was gone.”

“But she changed phone every month, she changed her email account every week, and she deleted her facebook account. She made me believe it was because she couldn’t decide. I was weak enough to believe her.”

Clarke reads between the lines.

“She told me to trust her.” Lexa repeats, lost in memories.

“One day, I came home and found the house on fire. Costia was inside.”

“She messaged me earlier that day, asking if I was staying at school. I had to study for an important test that I had the next day.”

“I answered I would be home later. I texted her three times that evening. One time, to tell her I would come back around eleven. The other, to ask if she wanted me to bring something to eat. The third, to ask if everything was fine on her side. I remember the words I used, the punctuation I chose, the exact time I sent them.”

Clarke’s heart aches at the clarity of those memories, the ones Lexa would probably never forget. She squeezes Lexa’s hand and sits closer, fighting the urge to embrace her.

“There was no answer.”

“I failed that test and the next. I tried another semester and eventually decided to take a sabbatical because I was going nowhere.”

“Costia’s death was never an accident. Nia did not set the fire that night, but she might as well have. The house burnt down, and Costia remained inside. Nia could have sent her directly into a slaughterhouse, the result would have been the same. She wanted Costia’s head cut off.”

Lexa’s voice is not strong anymore. It’s trembling, breaking, patching itself together with incomplete vocal chords. It’s barely a whisper, just strong enough to be heard over the breeze.

“She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t blocked by something. There was no one and nothing to save. The firemen and firewomen assured me the way the fire started had been unidentified, and that no electric problem was responsible. They explained to me the fire must had have started in one specific place and spread slowly, leaving plenty of time for Costia to escape or to call for help.”

“But she didn’t escape. Costia stayed. She stayed and burned all evidence, and I watched from outside.”

Lexa’s voice is rasped and used by grief.

“I was so blinded by the hope that Costia was fine that I forgot to double check the facts. I thought my love would be enough for her to lean on. I lost her because I was careless and weak.”

The girl whose eyes captured the sky is heartbroken by the amount of conviction Lexa puts in her words. But there is also something else that bugs her.

It is impossible to have a definitive answer regarding Costia’s state of mind when the fire was lit.

Which means Lexa has been condemned to either live with incertitude, or to choose a possibility and stick to it. The girl made her choice.

“I apologize to you, for the way I scared you, but I shall never regret my actions toward Nia that night. Not now, not ever.”

Lexa notices how anxious C is. The blonde takes deep breaths, she bites her lips slightly, but only for less than a second, she fiddles with her fingers without being aware to, and her blue eyes can’t seem to focus on anything in particular.

“Thank you… for telling me.”

The med student’s thoughts are a mess.

She doesn’t know how to comfort Lexa, to make her know that she’s here for her, no matter what. She feels that anything she says will never be enough to compensate the guilt the other woman must have felt for so long. She doesn’t want to say anything that might trigger the other woman, especially not regarding the exactitude of the way things happened.

She wonders how much time has passed since Lexa’s voice started filling the void.

She wonders if Lexa will ever trust someone again, the way she trusted her past lover.

She wonders if she will ever be able to appease Lexa’s soul. She wonders if anyone ever will.

She wonders if someday, Lexa will forgive herself. She wonders if forgiveness will ever be enough for the other woman to move on.

She wonders if there is any way she can convince Lexa that Costia’s death was never her fault.

She hopes it isn’t too late for that.

She’s thankful for the punch Lexa delivered in Nia’s face. Jealousy is never an excuse to ruin someone’s life. She briefly thinks about what would have happened had Lexa not been there, but dismisses the thought quickly. There is no need for her to dwell in that.

They can’t hear a sound beside the leaves in the trees above them.

“I understand why you did it.” C finally says. “I’m not mad.”

Lexa asks herself if she will ever understand the reasons why her friend seems to concentrate so hard to hide her own shaky voice.

“I know you may not want to hear this,” the blonde continues, “but you were not weak. You still aren’t. You say your love wasn’t enough to save her, but the truth is different. The final decision was hers, regardless of how much you loved her. The way I see it, you made her life better.”

“But—“

“I know.”

She squeezes Lexa’s hand, hoping to transfer her strength. She doesn’t want Lexa to think she’s trying to give a rational explanation, or deny what the woman feels, but she can’t stay quiet in front of such self-blame.

She can physically see the clouds in Lexa’s eyes, and the thunder that rumble inside. She can see the storms raging and ravaging and tearing the world apart.

“You may think my way is harsh, but it is how I survive.” Lexa says after reflection, knowing the reference to Bellamy’s words will be caught. “I couldn’t let her go away.”

C nods quietly. She doesn’t worry about Lexa’s actions anymore, but rather about the way she’s slightly afraid of the young woman by her side. Ironically, she worries about the way she feels inexplicably safer by her side. She worries about the way knowing Lexa’s story makes her feel closer to her friend.

She worries a lot, because the word ‘friend’ doesn’t seem close enough to what she is feeling, and yet, she isn’t ready for any different label.

There a thousand reasons why she’s ready, and a thousand more why she’s not.

“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don’t we deserve better than that?”

Lexa’s breath stiffens at the blonde’s question. She thinks of Raven’s speech earlier today, and the share of Bellamy’s wise words.

Lexa might not be entirely ready to move on, or to trust someone else, but she wants to. She doesn’t want to live by the sole purpose of hating another person. She wants to surpass this aspect of her, because it is not who she is, it does not define her.

Lexa doesn’t want to be the survivor anymore. She doesn’t want to be ‘two different things’ living in one body. She wants to be her old self again, the one who would smile and laugh and dance and sing and not have fucking nightmares every night. She wishes to live fully.

“Maybe we do.”

The kiss is unexpected, slow, soft, and comforting in the obscurity. It is a mere physical contact, but so much more is shared through it.

It’s different than the hard, passionate, almost violent, contacts they shared in the past as clothes would be ripped off their bodies.

It’s made of unspoken words and unwritten promises. It calls for a longing that can no longer be ignored. It contrasts with the hardness of both their hearts, and sharpens their mind to the other’s presence.

Their noses brush lightly against each other as Lexa pulls away slowly, her green eyes filled with raw emotions.

They spend an eternity studying each other and the secret meaning of their kiss before Lexa starts to lean closer again.

“I’m sorry…” The voice barely makes it to Lexa’s ears.

Lexa’s heart skips a beat. She moves back. Consent is sacred. Trust is fragile.

“I’m not ready… to be with anyone.”

 Lexa nods.

She feels like a fool for letting her feelings take control once again. She should have known. She doesn’t even know C’s story, and Lexa would never ask for it, but they just had an emotional conversation. She knows C still has to come to term with her somehow aggressive behavior from last time.

Just because she had a good excuse to hit someone doesn’t mean she should have.

Still, she can’t help but feel that something was exchanged. Something that goes deeper than the physical spectrum.

“Not yet.”

Lexa’s head nods again, with more conviction.

 _Not yet_.

She searches for confirmation in C’s eyes, and finds it.

Someday.

Soon.

Maybe in a minute, maybe in one hour, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week.

But soon.

They remain on the bench until the sky starts to dress in a subtle red and orange dress while birds sing their morning anthem. Not once do their hands part.

They’re addicted to each other’s presence, and no even the deep desire to sleep can cure this addiction. Lexa feels that this park could also become her favorite.

Lexa dreams that this girl will make her confront her nightmares, one after another, and it feels great. It tastes like freedom and victory. It makes her feel like she’s not a warrior anymore, fighting the Ice Queen and drinking her sorrow away.

No, she’s a Commander, building her life the way she has always wanted it to be, moving on past tragedies, but never forgetting.

She’s a commander, and Nia is a Queen, and the war between them might never reach a conclusion, but Lexa knows she doesn’t want more victims.

Suddenly, not knowing her friend’s name doesn’t seem right anymore. They know each other on such a deep level that she can’t bear the thought of not being able to call the blonde woman by her personal name. Lexa wants to know every detail, whether relevant or not.

And just like always, it seems that her mind is being read. She can’t escape it. She doesn’t think she ever will anymore.

“Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but it’s already in mine,” the blonde smiles with complicity. “I’m Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke.

C-la-r-ke.

Lexa doesn’t want to mess the name at her first try. She turns it around her in head, savoring the knowledge. She analyzes the structure, the pronunciation, she encodes the name in every neuron, and make sure to never forget it.  She murmurs it, first to herself, and then to the world.

“Clarke.”

It sounds like a promise Lexa has no intention to break. It sounds like the name of a leader, and Lexa believes Clarke is a perfect name for someone who holds the source of life in her eyes. It fits Lexa’s voice like it has been waiting to be pronounced by her since forever.

Clarke, Sky Commander.

“I’m Lexa Woods.”

Her own name sounds weak next to such a powerful name the blonde woman has grants her knowledge.

Clarke, however, does not seem to share the same opinion as fireworks illumine her pupils.

“Lexa.”

The name sounds majestic, like Clarke is painting a master piece with her voice and Lexa’s name is the model. It sounds like the rawness of mountains, the delicateness of forests, the sound of wildlife celebrating. It fits the way Clarke lets it roll on her tongue.

Lexa, Earth Commander.

They brace themselves for the inevitable collision of their worlds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 'Trust no one' in which Lexa prepares an evening with Clarke, goes to pick her up at her house, chooses a great restaurant and some activity to do after, but both insist on not calling it a 'date' (and in which the 10% is revealed)
> 
> Reminder that all my titles are chosen carefully. 
> 
> Reminder that I've been dropping details to link most of my chapters together. Proofreading latter chapters and realizing I might have been too subtle haha
> 
> Time since the fire: 2 years and one week
> 
> Kudos give me life.


	8. Trust no one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 'it's NOT a date'... until it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick so it took me little while to proofread this chapter. Apologies for all mistakes.

 

**Trust no one**

“What if she cancels?” Clarke asks for the hundredth time.

Raven shares a quick glance with Octavia as they both fight the urge to roll their eyes. They’ve been hearing that question for the past two days, and they just want Clarke to leave home to go to whatever non-date Lexa planned for them.

“Why do you even care if it’s not a date?” Octavia asks suggestively.

“Because friends who cancel plans are just as bad, and you would know if you actually felt guilty whenever you did so.” Clarke accuses while throwing her arms in the air dramatically.

“It happened once, and Lincoln didn’t know his last client would cancel! And it didn’t seem to bother you that much because when I came home, you were off to see Lexa.”

“Whatever,” Clarke pouts, knowing very well how right Octavia is.

The calmer duo is sitting patiently in the living room, throwing popcorn at each other and watching a movie, while Clarke paces furiously around them.

The non-date, as they both insisted, had been set just a few days ago. Things were awkward at first between them, Lexa’s story still hanging in the air around them, but the friendly atmosphere quickly took its place back.

It has been one month since that delicate kiss was exchanged at the Dropship park, and they -still-, according to Raven, avoid the subject. They -still-, according to Octavia, play around while they were supposed to be married and eloping somewhere in another country. They -still-, according to Clarke’s two best friends, ignore the obvious way they were made for each other.

But Clarke isn’t fully ready to date someone officially, and both Raven and Octavia know not to push the issue. Raven simply reminded Clarke that Finn was history, and that the blonde deserved a relationship that wouldn’t end with her heart being stomped over repeatedly.

“Seriously, what if she cancels? Should I call her? Should I message her? Should I cancel before she does? Should I pretend to be sick? Do you think she’ll notice if I lie? No, I can’t lie, that’d be bad. Should I get sick for real? I mean, none of you is sick but I could stick my head into the freezer and wait? Should I… GUYS, you’re not listening!”

“I swear if you don’t stop asking that question… You don’t even have her number because you guys are ridiculously stuck at the ‘let’s meet at the Ark whenever we want to see each other’ level of relationship. You can’t even message her. She might just be late, but oh wait, it’s not even six yet.” Raven expires impatiently. “I’m starting to regret the day I went to Lexa’s table to speak to her. You need to work that patience of yours, Griffin.”

“I can’t believe I missed you giving morale to that girl.” Octavia laughs. “I would have given anything to be there.”

“You were with Lincoln.” Raven states in a neutral voice.

“Anything but him.” The other girl shrugs.

“You’re a terrible friend, O, like the worst kind. Worse than Bell when he had super crazy loud sex while we were in the living room.”

“GUYS.” Clarke’s voice stops their conversation. “Bell ALWAYS has sex. One time or another, that’s the same. Can you help me, I’m trying not to freak out here!”

The non-date is set for six o’clock. Time indicates currently five minutes away, or as Clarke gently reminds them, three hundred seconds away, and there is no indication at all that it would be cancelled.

“Trying is the wrong term here. I think the one you’re looking for is ‘failing’ or ‘failing epically.’ Now, being the perfect friend, I’ll let you choose.”

“You’re wrong, Rae. First, I’m the perfect friend. Also, the right term is ‘failing so epically, we should actually call the Guinness record committee and let them know Clarke is breaking yet another record.’”

“You can be the perfect friend while I’m the perfect best friend.” Raven says. “But I think they already know. Big Brother is everywhere, and C’s International Freaking Out Signal has probably been caught a while ago. Even aliens picked up on that.”

The blonde girl groans as the two others high five each other.

Clarke tries to stay busy under the mocking look of her friends.

She cleans the already spotless counter, checks her outfit for the third time, sits on the couch with her friends, gets up, sits again, gets up, grabs a handful of popcorn, eats one and regrets it instantly because _what if it gets stuck in my teeth_ , throws the rest back in the bowl as Octavia sighs in annoyance, starts pacing around again and finally decides to go lock herself in her bedroom.

“You’re not going to war, relax, C!” Raven yells.

“Again, wrong, she’s at war with feelings,” Octavia clarifies. “Really Raven, you need to improve the way you perceive things!”

“At least I know that this Lexa girl is better than whoever else from the past.”

Octavia approves silently. A brief flash of memory crosses their mind, but it is soon forgotten.

The two girls hear Clarke moving in her bedroom, loud clashes and pieces of paper being thrown at the floor creating an unusual harmony. They hear her open and close her bedroom twice, as if the poor girl was unsure what to do.

“Can she be more oblivious?” Raven complains.

“We should convince her there’s something more or I have a feeling we’ll have to endure the same crap for the next ten ‘non-dates’ shit she decides to have.”

“Clarke is as stubborn as you, O, that’s not going to work. She’s been talking about that night since they agreed on it, and she asked us both our opinion on clothes. Do you know how rare that is? She didn’t even do that with Finn! And yet, she’s still convinced it’s a casual extremely ordinary, borderline boring, evening with a normal ordinary boring friend. Hell, I’d like to have a normal ordinary boring friend like Lexa.”

“She’s not getting laid tonight.”

“Definitely not.”

They roll their eyes and focus their attention on the movie. There are really not a lot of options for them, as they know Clarke would murder them if she knew they were influencing her relationship with Lexa.

Last time that happened, the blonde had changed the WiFi password and let them try to figure out the new one for a week before finally telling them it was ‘OAndRaeAreAnnoying_InCaseOfEmergencyTouch80085.’ There had been no character limit, and Raven instantly made it her goal to fix this problem. 

Clarke keeps pacing around, and she can’t stop thinking about the hundred things that could go wrong. It’s not a date, she keeps telling herself, so why is she so nervous? It’s not like they aren’t friends. In fact, they are definitely closer than before. But just, how close are they? Are they close, close? No. Yes. No. Maybe?

She somehow manages to convince herself the non-date is a bad idea just as the doorbell rings.

“Future wifey is here!” Raven calls out.

“Shut up, Raven!” Clarke groans as she exits her bedroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake, you don’t have to take it so personally.” She clears her throat and yells again. “Current wifey is here!”

“Raven!”

“Whatever, matchmaking done! Are you going to pay by check or cash? You’ll thank me when you two get married. I don’t know how she’ll deal with such a grumpy wife though.”

The only thing that is on Clarke’s mind as she runs to open the main entrance’s door is that she would give anything to make sure Lexa has not heard Raven.

“Hello, Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

The two women face each other, a smile on both their face. They breathe the sight of each other, not in any hurry to move out. Emerald eyes travel down Clarke’s body, and when Lexa seems to realize what she is doing, she quickly bring them back up, under the amused look of the blonde.

They both dress in a very casual way, but really, there is no need to care about clothes. Clarke has seen Lexa dressed classy at the bar, casual at the Ark, and even naked. Lexa has seen Clarke wearing the Ark’s uniform, and that alone beats all kind of possible humiliation.

“A wild Lexa appears. Let’s see how our trainer will tame the beast.” Raven whispers.

“Even Clarke’s name sounds better when she says it.” Octavia comments.

“My theory is that it’s because Lexa’s already whipped. What about you, dear O?”

“I dutifully agree with you, Rae. And I might add, even Lexa’s name doesn’t sound so intimidating when Clarke says it.”

“If that’s your opinion, imagine how inoffensive that name must sound when they’re doing the do!” Raven says in a false offensive voice.

“Actually, it’s probably the opposite. We should ask the public for their opinion. If you think it sounds like Lexa’s a secret softie, press 1, if not, press 2.” Octavia says, miming the gesture with her hands.

Clarke turns her eyes away from Lexa and walks to slightly hit both of her friends on their head.

“Stop commenting my friend like you’re hosting a show, you losers.” She mutters under her breath.

“You’re the loser.” Raven says. “We’ll stop when you admit you’re going on a date.”

Clarke ignores her friends and waves her hand at them as she practically forces Lexa out of her apartment. She then drags the other woman downstairs as fast as possible, escaping the evil laughs of her two demons of best friends.

The evening is barely starting and she already wants to bury herself in a blankets fort and never come out. It’s not cold outside, the spring air blowing the remaining of winter away. There’s no snow anymore, and they both only wear a light leather jacket over their shirt.

Clarke glances at Lexa and notices the woman has a small smile on her lips, like she fears the world will implode if she lets it show too much.

Clarke thinks, if she was the one making the rules, it would a crime against humanity for Lexa to hide her smile.

They had agreed, before setting the ‘non-date’ date, that they would take Clarke’s car to go wherever Lexa wanted to go. Lexa had still insisted that she would be the one to join Clarke at her place. There was no particular plan except dinner, because it WASN’T a date. They simply figured they might as well drive the coolest car.

Clarke, as the perfect gentlewoman, opens Lexa’s door and then rushes to her own side.

“How was your day?” Clarke asks as the blue Lexus comes to life.

The blonde carefully avoids staring at Lexa’s eyes. She’s scared she might stay trapped in them, and then crash the car in a tree. It would be a disaster for their first alone activity outside the usual Ark meeting.

She still refuses to call it a date. She’s stubborn like this, but then again, so is Lexa.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” comes the prudent answer.

Clarke grins like a five years old and Lexa finds it adorable. Lexa gives direction to Clarke as they drive through the city, and they stop talking for the rest of the way.

They don’t remain silent though. They whisper cryptic sentences in the empty space between them, talking to themselves or to the other, or to no one in particular. They hum the lyrics of the songs playing at the radio, and pretend like they’re not listening to the other’s voice.

_But I, I need a miracle_

_A miracle, she said_

_Love is more like a loaded gun than a safety net to fall back on_

_Like walking around with a ticking bomb_

_And just counting down to the explosion_

They each look at different directions. It feels weird to not be sitting in their usual environment, facing each other, so they spend time searching for the other’s reflection on the various windows of the car and, when found, act like it doesn’t make their breath catch in their throat.

They anxiously wonder why the atmosphere is more uncomfortable than usual. They blame it on the fact that the last time they were in the car, they were doing something much more demanding than simply looking at the city. They try not to let images of naked skin and looks of ecstasy surround their mind.

It is only once their hands clasp together that the awkwardness fades, and that their relationship make sense again.

_We live as one_

_We live alone_

_I am your soldier_

_I will atone_

_And will you take a life with me?_

_My soul moves on_

_My soul is freed_

Lexa is secretly freaking out. It has been almost two years and a month since Costia’s death, which means two years and a month since the last time she dated someone. Not that this is a date, of course.

She needs everything to be perfect, and she’s starting to regret the plans for the evening. Before she can change her mind, the car stops.

They arrive at a small restaurant, almost hidden by other buildings around. They’re in a quiet neighborhood, far from Clarke’s apartment. The blonde doesn’t know the place, but Lexa’s eyes fill with stars. They steal the sky from Clarke’s eyes, just for a second.

Clarke gave _carte blanche_ to Lexa. She asked to know more about her, but only if Lexa was ready. She’s curious about the possible secrets this place hides.

It’s not a date, they keep thinking, but Lexa prepared the evening like an attentive lover, and not like a devoted friend.

The restaurant is situated in a small old house made of large bricks. A narrow road made of ancient rocks leads to the main entrance, and the door is made of shiny thick wood. A small torch lights up the path, and the smell of local food spreads toward them.

They walk in, and are immediately welcomed by a tall handsome man who offers them his best smile, eyes lighting up as he glances at Lexa. He has a small scar under his left eyes, Clarke notes.

“Welcome to TonDC Bistro. Table for two?

Lexa nods while Clarke looks in amazement the inside of the small establishment.

Small sculpted wooden tables are dispersed in a random organized pattern, silverware and crystal glasses neatly placed on them. Walls are covered with different sized paintings in various frames, and mirrors decorate the farthest wall, giving the impression that the place is bigger than it really is. Modern bright lights descend from the ceiling, enveloping the place with a classy look, contrasting with the old style ambiance.

Music plays faintly, not loud enough to hide anyone’s voice, though everyone seems to be talking in a controlled soft tone. Despite the ancient look the room illustrates, Clarke notices it seems like an expensive place, and the blonde immediately feels self-conscious.

She’s literally looking at people in dresses and suits while she’s wearing jeans.

Clarke is so busy staring at everyone else that she doesn’t see the waiter’s arm giving Lexa a semi hug when he leaves them at a table situated slightly apart from the others. The brunette doesn’t seem intimidated at all by the place.

“Order anything you want.” Lexa says as they are left to themselves with the menus.

They don’t point out the fact that a simple ordinary dinner at restaurant between two friends doesn’t include one paying for the other.

They don’t point out that Lexa inviting Clarke makes the evening look dangerously like a date.

Clarke only nods until she realizes the absence of prices on the menu.

“Lexa,” she hesitates.

She’s gone to enough extravagant restaurants to know no prices on the menu can only means one thing.

“That’s the kind of place my mom would be able to afford. And you should know, my mom has a double doctorate in medicine, and is paid more than half the doctors where she works at.”

Lexa’s eyes look up from the menu. She knew Clarke’s family was likely rich, but this is impressive.

“It’s okay.”

“Lexa, I’m serious. We’re not even on… I mean… I can’t, no way.”

Somehow, saying they’re not on date sounded wrong to Clarke, and the words decided they would not come out.

“Clarke, it’s good.” Lexa answers. “It is my pleasure to invite you. Now choose something, because I’m hungry and food takes forever to cook here.”

Clarke resigns. She feels like she’s being ordered to do something against her will, except she’s not being entirely forced. It’s a complicated feeling, quickly replaced by wondering what people Lexa was talking about.

“What costs the less on this thing?” She asks.

Lexa stares in disbelief.

“Do not let the price prevents you from having a decent meal.”

“I can make instant noodles at home and it’s a decent meal.”

“Stop. This is not a negotiation.”

Clarke ends up choosing pasta, because most pasta usually cost less than meat. Lexa takes some complicated unpronounceable French meal. They don’t order any drinks, because they don’t want to take chances with driving issues.

Clarke almost sticks her tongue to Lexa’s surrendered smile when she orders some pasta plate, but stops herself on time, remembering where they are.

“I am not smiling because I lost, Clarke.”

The blonde girl narrows her eyes at the smug look she is receiving. She feels like she won’t like the next words.

“The meal you ordered is one of the most expensive ones of this place. The pastas are handmade with high quality ingredient coming from Europe, and the sauce that it is served with is created using only the finest products from various places in the world. The spices are equitable and chosen for their quality over their quantity. This makes the meal changes depending on which ones are available at certain times of the year.”

“You cannot be serious.” Clarke moans, calculating the best way to change her order.

“Don’t worry Clarke, at least you did not choose the most expensive one.”

“You’re terrible at making me feel better.”

“It is the truth. The plate just above is made with white truffles, and cost—“

“I would rather not know.” Clarke interrupts. “Or I’ll be going back home and serve myself instant noodles.

Lexa nods and places her hand over Clarke’s.

“Does this place make you feel uncomfortable?” She asks in a worried tone.

She fears she might have overdo it, but Clarke had asked they go to a place that meant something to her, and this is the only one she could think about beside the Ark. It might be expensive, but the homemade food came from the gods themselves.

“A little,” Clarke admits. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind staying here with you.”

Lexa is about to asks if she would rather leave, but her words are cut once again.

“I’ll be fine once I recover from the news that you come from the same world as my mom’s.” Clarke jokes.

“I do not. But we can leave if it makes you feel better.”

“I’m fine, Lexa. Really.” Clarke’s honest tone is enough to calm Lexa’s racing heart.

The food indeed takes time to prepare, and they fall in a comfortable conversation about their last few days.

They already know a lot about each other from the time they played 21 questions, and both remember all answers.

They still stubbornly tell themselves that remembering religiously all answers by heart is something any kind of friend would do.

They question each other about more aspects, touching the subjects of the past and the future, of dreams and wish lists. They even speak a little about what they want from a relationship, but the subject remains an unexplored land for most.

Lexa notices the way Clarke seems to dodge any question about family and subtly focuses the conversation on her friends instead. The green eyed girl heard Raven’s comment about her being ‘future wifey’, but she doubts Clarke would like to know about that. Still, she found it hilarious, something she would rather die for than admit.

“Do you also have annoying friends to deal with?” Clarke asks.

“I have.” Lexa says. “Anya is my roommate, just like Octavia and Raven are yours. She has been there for me for as long as I can remember.”

The implicit words are caught by Clarke. _She has been there for me when Costia died._

“Do you sometimes wish you could magically shut her mouth, because this is a good representation of my everyday life.” Clarke says, going with humor to avoid heading toward such a hard subject already.

She doesn’t miss the way Lexa blinks thankfully.

“I do. But Anya is the older sister I always needed. She might be hard sometimes, but she says wise things.”

“Bellamy’s the older sister in our group, I believe.” Clarke laughs. “Or the mom, I don’t know. Except his wise advices are very limited. He’s trying.”

“I have no difficulty to believe it. You care about him.”

Lexa couldn’t stop herself from adding the last sentence. She never followed Raven’s advice to forget ‘her theory’.

“I care about all of them. They’re my true family.” Clarke explains. “They look after me and stop me from doing stupid things… or at least, sometimes. Raven would sacrifice her sleep for me, and that’s a lot coming from her. Octavia too. She pretends like she’s all badass since she got that tattoo, but she’s a softie with me. I got to mention Monty, you remember him? He’s such a nerd, but he’s the most honest to earth guy you can find around. He’ll listen to you so much you have to remind yourself to give him a break.  They’re all awesome.”

“It’s the same with Anya. She actually advised me to come home tonight, claiming sleeping over is not an option for the first date.”

 Lexa’s eyes get flooded by stress at her own words. They slipped sneakily from the controlled barrier Lexa usually has to make sure this kind of situation never happens.

“Not that this is a date. I was using the word to make you understand better.” Lexa explains, and Clarke almost giggles at how the usual composed woman now seems terribly agitated.

“Don’t worry about that.”

They are both grateful to see the waiter arrives at their table with two giant plates, something Clarke is not used to see in such fancy places.

Her stomach roars from excitement.

“Eat well.” Lexa smiles at Clarke’s expression. “They know to give us plenty of food here. You might even bring some back with you tonight.”

“You’re perfect.” Clarke claims as she digs in the food, not giving her words second thought, though Lexa’s mouth curls a bit higher shyly.

They devour their meal surprisingly fast while having small talk.

Lexa learns that Clarke wants to quit college to fully concentrate on arts.

Clarke learns that Lexa is thinking of going back to college to finish her law degree.

Art and law are two very different fields. Law maintains order and is based on rules and theorems. Art defies order and is born from creativity and excesses. Both women congratulate the other on their decisions that unknowingly complement each other. Both know it must have taken a lot of courage to make their final decision and come to term with it.

By the time they finish their meal, Clarke is that close to ignore the rules because she wants to lick her plate. She claims she already misses the taste. Lexa’s amused eyes cannot look away from the struggling woman.

“You will have a plate to bring home.” She insists.

“The moment I bring it home, it will belong to my two vultures of roommates.”

Lexa ignores the comment as the waiter comes back with a small piece of paper Clarke assumes to be the receipt. The blonde woman almost snatches it from Lexa’s hands, curious to see how much her debt is, but the rare polite side of her wins the fight.

Clarke looks at her phone while Lexa is gone to pay. She heard Lexa’s phone go off a few times as well, and though Lexa promptly ignored hers, she hopes the gesture won’t seem rude. She has six text messages, all from Raven.

_Did you fuck yet?_

_Sorry, that was rude. Did you do the do yet?_

_Did you woo her with your fancy car?_

_O wants to know if we should leave the place for the night._

_Ok, I want to know that, but O agrees with me._

_Oh wait, are you doing the do right now, is that why u not answering?_

Clarke sighs at the immaturity, though she admits she would be doing the same if Raven had such an attractive date. There’s the ‘date’ word again, and Clarke reprimands herself for using it.

 _We’re not doing anything and I didn’t reply because it’s impolite._ She quickly types.

She puts her phone away when Lexa comes back, two plastic bags in her hand. She notices a nostalgic look in Lexa’s face, but doesn’t comment on it. Whatever this is, she’s sure she will have explanation eventually.

They leave the place under the look of the same waiter, and this time, Clarke notices the semi hug he shares with Lexa.

When they step outside, Clarke realizes how dark it is, and wonders about the time. The bistro makes for an excellent time machine. It feels like they were lost in between, not quite in the past, present, or future, simply in their own personal worlds.

“It’s a little past nine.” Lexa informs her. “But the night is not over yet. Would you allow me to drive this time?”

Clarke’s immediate reflex is to say no, to forbid anyone to touch the wheel of her baby. Last time she allowed someone to drive her car, it had finished stuck in mud. Murphy and Bellamy had thought it would be a great idea to take her Lexus to camp on some mountain, and the rain had transformed all possible roads to rivers of brown glue water.

Clarke hands the keys to Lexa anyway, because that’s what she wants. She wants Lexa to guide her wherever they go.

“Careful.” She still adds, and Lexa nods.

They are about ten minutes away from the restaurant, heading in a totally unknown direction to Clarke, when Lexa turns off the radio.

“Did you enjoy the restaurant?” She asks, never letting her sight off the road ahead.

They’re driving toward a very isolated industrial part of the city, Clarke realizes shortly before she answers the question, and she wonders if Lexa is not actually a mass murderer.

If Lexa was a mass murderer, she thinks, then it is definitely not date.

She starts imagining Lexa, paint in her face, black color masking the contour of her delicate features. She sees her playing with a knife in her hand, looking at her with determination. She pictures Lexa sitting gloriously in front of her, her posture flawless, studying the best way to end her life.

She is so troubled by the sight, and so turn on, that she doesn’t remember to answer the question until the alternate real version of her friend asks again.

“I did. I’m sorry for freaking out about the prices. It just sets a high line for next time.” She laughs.

The next time.

It sounds good.

Can next time be tomorrow?

Lexa nods again, and Clarke wonders if the girl ever used useless words in the past. She’s ready to bet her life on ‘no.’

“You’ve asked that I bring you to a place that meant something to me.”

“I said, when you’re ready.” Clarke specifies to make sure Lexa was not feeling pressured.

“I was. I am. The Ark was Costia’s favorite place, and it might be the only reason why I met you again. I went there, hoping to find relief on her birthday, and I found you. I don’t want to say that I found you instead, because you were relief.”

The blonde girl tries to not let the words affect her too much, but fails miserably. The warm feeling in her stomach hasn’t been tamed since three months ago.

“The waiter is Costia’s brother.”

Clarke’s heartbeat freezes. She knew something was going on between the two of them, but she never would’ve guessed this kind of proximity and familiarity.

“I’m not trying to ruin the night,” Lexa hurries to clarify, “it is just another part that I wanted to share with you.”

“The restaurant was set on fire in a criminal way a few weeks before our house was. He survived the fire, but a piece of burnt wood fell on his left eye, leaving the scar you saw. Costia believed it to be the act of Nia. I believe this was the reason Costia… chose such a method, so soon after.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s criminal. You can send her to jail for that. It’s not just a small text message anymore, Lexa!” Clarke answers furiously.

“A text message can be as lethal as the strongest fire, Clarke.” Lexa teaches. “We did not have proof. We still don’t. The only element Costia told me was that she had been called by Nia only two days before the fire occurred at her brother’s restaurant. Nia asked if they could meet.”

Clarke waits for more information. She’s enraged. She knows Lexa’s point was not to anger her, but she can’t help it. She thinks about how unfair the situation is, and how useless she is. She would give anything to find the slightest proof to convince anyone, anyone, that Nia is responsible.

“Costia didn’t reply because she was with me. We learned only later that Nia had lost her sister, and that she had requested comfort. Costia suspected that Nia wished to inflict her similar pain.”

Clarke is mortified. No sane human being would ever do that to someone, she’s sure of that, and yet, Lexa’s story makes sense in a madly way. She’s about to offer help, any kind of possible help, when Lexa changes the subject.

“Costia invited me there for our third date. I had the same reaction you did at the menu. She assured me everything was taken care of, but I could not let it go. It almost ruined the night, I must say.” Lexa says. “She told me about her brother, and how he was the owner.”

Clarke gasps. This paradisiac place belonged to Costia’s brother?

“He chose to be a waiter because he wanted to be on the first receiving hand of the customer’s reactions. He didn’t want to be known as an innovator or a business man, simply as a man who enjoyed making people’s stomach satisfied.”

The road narrows, and Clarke notices a huge tent hidden behind an abandoned factory.

“Tonight is the first time I went back since her death.” Lexa admits. “I wanted to share it with you. Despite it being the final push to Costia’s act, I believe it remains one of my favorite places.”

The car stops. They’ve arrived to an amateur parking lot, and music is blasting through hidden speakers. The time indicates ten o’clock, and the site is alive with many people.

“It is not because of the food, but rather because of the place itself. It is secluded. It is hidden if you don’t know where to look. It does not ask for attention. It is welcoming to all. You must have realized the way we were dressed in a complete opposite way as anyone else, and yet, we were welcomed with the same smile, the same tone voice, the same words. We were served the same food, and none of the other customers even glanced at our direction. We were treated the same, and I can assure you that the man being Costia’s brother has nothing to do with it.”

“But the prices…?” Clarke murmurs, hoping she’s not crossing any limit.

“The prices are hidden, it is true. Because the ingredients are chosen carefully, and because not many know about the place, a certain amount of money is asked. However, not all meals cost the same. Someone who does not have enough money will not be reprimanded, but rather asked to pay the difference in a certain length of time. Costia’s brother believes in honesty and mutual trust. Most come back to pay, some don’t. He does not go after anyone.”

Clarke thinks this is a dangerous bet to take when someone owns a restaurant, but doesn’t answer. She likes the small bistro’s mentality. She finds it rare and special in a world where trust is always getting harder to find.

Lexa pauses and gives the keys back to Clarke as they exit the car. The crowd is full of energy around them, and all make their way to the tent entrance.

“Like I said, I don’t want to ruin the night. This place is a shelter, a place where everyone is welcomed, a place to share and to welcome. No one knew about the restaurant, but Costia and I. And now, you.”

Clarke takes Lexa’s hand and they head toward the tent. She can hear circus music coming from inside, and she laughs internally at Lexa’s inner childish side.

“I knew you couldn’t be serious all the time.” She mocks.

Lexa says nothing, but Clarke feels a tiny nudge at her side. She laughs loudly, not bothering if she disturbs someone.

They take places and wait for the show to start. It doesn’t take long, and Clarke forgets to ask Lexa what this place is all about. All she knows about the show is its name, from the brochure she was given at the entrance.

**_Trigedakru_ **

Clarke doesn’t have time to contemplate the meaning of the name. Lights are turned off and a song in an unknown language starts to play.

Acrobats fall from the sky at the same time as a simulated earthquake shakes the tent. Hidden by giant trees, a group of artists stands on the ground and watches as the fallen crew makes it way down.

The group that fell from above, from space, Clarke notices with the universe pattern painted on the tent, is dressed in modern clothes, jeans and shirts used by time. They are surrounded by smoke and electronical devices.

The group that remains on the ground is dressed in animal furs and torn tissues. It stands proudly, with swords and bows attached to each member. They are surrounded by shadows and various plants.

Clarke watches in amazement as the space group tries to accustom to their new environment, fights and fireworks accentuating the development of their story. She gasps at the representation of betrayal and torture, beautifully portrayed by trapeze artists and masters of knives.

“We are not alone.”

She looks stunned at the gradual appearance of the habitants of the ground, renamed Grounders. They walk tall and proudly, facing the most dangerous animals, as lions, tigers and even a giant gorilla are released in the tent in a spectacular surviving arc. The Grounders all proudly display tattoos on their skin and paint on their faces, and Clarke wonders if they are as real as the emotions she reads on their features.

“Kill them, before they kill us.”

She sits at the edge of her seat when the leader of the Sky People, as they are called, meets the leader of the Tree People. The blonde woman who portrays the latter is beautiful, she thinks. She is portrayed as a queen, and the horse on which she sits is majestic.

“Give me enough time, I’ll cook them real good.”

Clarke hears gasps as the performers show their talents in a series of choreographed battles, juggling weapons and mocking the concept of gravity.

“We are grounders!”

The world explodes in a fire art war at the final tableau, the two groups of people engaged in a destructive fight. The destiny of many is left pending as The Sky People and their leader salute the scene in an impressive pyramid that portrays their victory.

Clarke notices a single person staring at them from a high pillar to the left. The woman is looking at them with a look of defiance in her eyes, her face hidden by war paint. She holds a knife in her hand and prepares to throw it at them. On the second pillar, at the opposite of the woman, stand a group of men dressed in white astronaut-like uniform. They stand above, watching and getting ready to throw little grey boxes Clarke assumes to be gas bombs.

The show ends on a cliffhanger.

Clarke thinks the woman at the end would be a good representation of the way she had imagined Lexa being a dangerous criminal a bit earlier that night.

The tent is gifted by applauds as the performers are introduced.

“It is the first chapter of many.” Lexa tells her when they leave. “The people you saw at the end will play a significant role in the next show. The woman you noticed standing alone is the Commander of the Grounders. She will want revenge. Gustus named the bar we met at after this show.”

“How come you know all this?” Clarke asks, still overwhelmed by the tragic beauty of the tale she just witnessed.

“The leader of the Tree People is played by Anya. She’s a performer. Tonight was the premiere, and she made me promise to see her. She also made it sure for me to understand that you would enjoy it.”

Anya, Clarke thinks, Lexa’s closest friend. The blonde feels like she is introduced to Lexa’s entire world in a single night, and it makes her heartbeat lose control.

“I did!” Clarke answers with an exciting voice. “I can’t wait for the next chapter, when does it come out?”

“They just started the first one. The second will only be ready in a year.”

Clarke hopes she will still be friends with Lexa a year from now.

She actually hopes they will be well past the ‘friends’ stage, a year from now, but she doesn’t say it loud. The reason why they’re in such an ambiguous situation is because she claimed she was not ready when they kissed.

She wonders if it is too early to change her mind.

She wonders if it is too late.

She scolds herself for being so damn complicated.

They wander around for a while, the site having being transformed to some sort of small fair for the premiere of the Trigedakru. Lexa pretends not to look as she sees Anya exiting the tent and waving her hand at her. Clarke notices the older woman sticking her tongue at the both of them and giggles. Anya is nice enough to not bother them.

“This is a rare event. Maybe my friend has more in common with yours than we thought.” Lexa comments, referring to Clarke’s early words about Raven and Octavia.

They see the different artists getting ready to leave as the crowd disperses, a few people staying around to play at the various stands. It’s almost midnight, and Clarke cannot get enough of Lexa’s presence.

They see reporters along with a few cameramen filming the scene, doing a review of the premiere, and Lexa feels inexplicably proud when she sees Anya being interviewed.

On their way to the car, they spot a stand where they sell hot chocolate, and the fresh air of the end of spring is making Clarke shivers. The smell of melted chocolate makes her mouth waters, and she would give anything to have one in her hand.

Before the blonde can even say a word, Lexa walks to the stand and buys some of the precious warm liquid. She offers the paper cup to Clarke and claps their hands together again. She was gone for only two minutes, but she missed the contact already.

Clarke’s eyes shine when she looks at Lexa, and she feels so very much alive she’s wondering if her heartbeat is racing against the speed of light.

Clarke doesn’t realize Lexa is trapped in a very similar situation, heart threatening to burst under the pressure of the storms of emotions.

Once inside the closed door of the blue Lexus, the music can no longer reach them, and both women wonder if the sound of their heart respective rhythms can be heard now.

“It was amazing.” Clarke whispers. “Thank you, for showing me a part of you.”

Lexa nods, once again, and Clarke has to fight against all odds to not lean and kiss her.

“The same goes to you.” Lexa says.

“What do you mean? The bistro, the circus, Anya… these all are parts of your life.” Clarke frowns.

Lexa remains silent, carefully preparing her answer.

“You answered questions about you. You created new memories with me. You smiled and laughed and showed raw emotions.”

“That’s just…” Clarke stops talking when she sees Lexa’s eyes on her.

“You had a look of wonder in your eyes and never once closed them. You accepted the stories I shared with you. You welcomed the world I offered you, and never second-guessed it. You let me, be me.”

Clarke stares back, speechless. She feels like she did no such thing, because Lexa doesn’t need anyone’s permission to be herself. She doesn’t say anything back, because nothing she could say would good enough to compete with the way she feels right now.

She’s still stuck in the constant battle against her need, her desire to feel those lips against hers once more.

“You once told me you were no one.” Lexa whispers, like she’s about to reveal the universe’s deepest secret to Clarke. “But, Clarke, you are a human being. You belong somewhere, and it is fine if you do not know who your people are yet. You experience happiness, but also pain. I’ve seen your strength, it’s true. You bend under the weight of your past, but you do not break.”

Lexa takes a deep breath.

“I do trust you, Clarke.”

“I know how hard that is for you,”

With that simple answer, Clarke hopes that she can convey everything she can’t quite put in words yet.

She hopes those words carry the same meaning to both of them. She acknowledges the difficulty of Lexa to trust someone, and she accepts it, and she will do her best to never break the bond they share. She’s so thankful for Lexa to give her this chance that words are the most useless way to share her thoughts right now, and she can only pray that the eyes really are the mirror of the soul.

Clarke feels like she truly is losing the battle against her urge to kiss Lexa, and the way those green eyes keeps glancing toward her lips is the only motivation she needs.

The moment is interrupted violently by Clarke’s phone buzzing loudly in the quiet space between them. The artist curses mentally, and promises to make a slave out of the person who dared interrupting her.

She’s about to ignore it when it buzzes again, and a third time.

She throws an apologetic look at Lexa, whose spine stiffened drastically when the phone buzzed. Lexa nods absently and starts the car. They pull back and start their way back toward Clarke’s apartment.

The moment is ruined, Clarke thinks, and with the both of them swimming in a sea of thrilling tension, she might as well check her message. It might be an emergency.

It’s Raven, and Clarke hates her before even opening her phone’s inbox.

_Saw u on the news. Background of some hottie’s interview. Took a pic to show u ur face when she gives u the paper cup._

_U and Lexa are totally on a date._

_Texted others. Bell, Murphy, Jasper and Monty agree. Ur screwed._

Clarke blushes at the message. She looks at Lexa who has a questioning look on her face.

“Just Raven.”

Clarke stares at her phone for a moment. She doesn’t care if the world saw her in the background of Anya’s interview, but she’s nervous because whatever her answer is, Raven will twist it.

She decides not to answer anything. She lets Raven have her small victory.

She’ll regret it later, she knows it, but at the sight of Lexa, driving in the silent streets, eyes focused on the road and shoulders relaxed, Clarke thinks it’s worth it. She thinks the woman is so different than the one she met only a few months ago, and yet, she remains the same strong person she has always been.

Clarke decides their first date was more than successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 'Endless possibilities', in which Raven is up to no good, and Clarke talks.
> 
> Time since the fire: 2 years and one month
> 
> AN: I'm writing from my grave because S3E2 feat Clarke being furious at Lexa.
> 
> Short lyrics are from 'Explosion' by Seafret, and The Grounder anthem, as heard in 303
> 
> Kudos are (almost) better than Clexa.


	9. Endless possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven is up to no good and Clarke opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini 2 months time jump after Raven part.

Endless possibilities

Don’t judge by looks.

You’ve heard that speech already ten thousand times.

And you’re about to hear it once more.

What do you know about people? This smiling girl there could be crying inside. This healthy muscular guy over here could be cutting himself because he’s fighting steroids dependence. This joyful lady walking with her dog could have depression. This teenager could be dreaming of flying away by taking the next jump off the closest bridge. This blonde girl there is not necessary a spoiled bitch. The black guy is not a future murderer. Those two guys holding hands do not have aids. Those two girls holding hands might not just be best friends. This perfect couple could be on their way to sign divorce papers. The innocent-looking little boy could be a future famous celebrity.

And when you do judge people by looks, remember it’s not all there is. Everything could be staged to fit society’s norms. That popular person in one city could become a politic prisoner in another country.

The whole world you’re living in changes according to time and space. Everything could just be an illusion of what you want it to be.

The two people holding hands could be anything you want them to be.

They could be best friends, old lovers, regular customer and her barista, complete strangers, cousins… anything. They could be sworn enemies pretending to be civil with each other. They could even be hiding guns in our bags, waiting for something to happen so they could shoot everything.

They could tear the world apart with words and pens, or anonymously hack the greatest of the internet.

They can be whatever you want them to be, just like they can be whoever they perceive themselves to be.

The only truth in this world is relativity.

***

Raven is barely out of her apartment when she spots the tall figure disappearing behind the street corner.

The young mechanic almost trips down the stairs and breaks her intact leg. She curses under her breath. She needs that leg. She cannot bear the thought of walking with two braces, it drives her mad. She already went through hell and back years ago, and she does not want to relive this.

Eyes wide open, she focuses her attention and detours from her usual way to follow the woman she saw. She moves quickly, afraid the trace might be gone already. Her only knowledge of following someone comes from FBI and action movies, and she’s not in the mood to be caught in the middle of bullets flying around her.

She’s a little overreacting, but can’t help thinking about how exciting that must be.

She turns the corner and easily sees her target ahead. The tall blonde woman is walking like any normal human being would, and Raven quickly catches up, half hiding behind any objects that separate them. A dinosaur would be more subtle than her, and a few people stare at her suspiciously as she smiles back innocently.

She has little idea what makes her reach to that woman, beside the fact that it’s the same person she had seen interviewed on television while Clarke and Lexa were too busy making heart eyes at each other in the background.

Anya, Raven thinks her name is.

Raven has wanted to speak to her for a long time, and there she was, on a silver plate.

She remembers clearly the flawless blonde hair and high cheekbones, the cocky smile and slightly dangerous light in the eyes of that person, the high posture and the remains of war paint on the beautiful face. However, there is one specific thing she remembers, and it’s the almost unnoticeable way that stranger had exchanged a brief glance with that Lexa girl.

Raven isn’t stupid. There can only be one meaning to that momentarily secret interaction, and it is that the woman is familiar with Lexa.

As Clarke’s best friend, Raven’s protective side comes in the form that she has to make sure that whoever Lexa is, she’s good enough to be with Clarke. Raven already started that when she spoke with Lexa at the Ark, but that’s not enough. Obviously, there is no better way to dig deeper than to get information from Lexa’s possible company.

Raven keeps walking, pretending to know where she is going, keeping a secure distance from her prey. It’s been a good ten minutes since the start of this mouse and cat game, and she’s already feeling like a professional detective.

She enjoys the feeling and almost considers changing her career goals.

She thought about going to the ‘Trigedakru’ show by herself. The show had great critics so far, and the storyline sounds interesting. She could have waited after and pretended to be a reporter to question the artist. From what Clarke said, the spectacle was worth waiting in line to get tickets, and there was a character in there that reminded her of Raven.

Nonsense, Raven had replied, because no one could ever be as badass as she is.

She quickly pretends to look at a random shop when she notices the blonde woman looking around. She blushes a little when she realizes she’s staring at people eating in a restaurant, and that she’s been looked at by curious eyes.

She averts her eyes and glances around. The street is empty, and she quickly becomes aware that the person she’s been following is nowhere to be seen. Raven rolls her eyes. Of course, it can’t just be that easy.

She sighs and walks back from where she came from, only to bump straight into the one person she has been following.

“Shit,” she lets out.

She’s facing the taller woman, who’s narrowing her eyes at her sight.

Raven could’ve chosen the easy way out and go find Anya on Facebook or something, but no, she had to play all James Bond on the situation.

“Would you believe me if I said I was working for someone who hired me to follow you?” Raven asks.

“Would you believe someone saying that to you?” The woman questions back.

Raven shakes her head. She wouldn’t, because that excuse is lame, and she wonders if she has lost her ability to make great comebacks.

“Would you believe me if I said I want to hire you as a model and I wanted to evaluate the way you walk?”

“Would you believe me if I said I have the skills to torture you until you beg me to stop?”

Raven tries, really tries to keep the next words inside of her.

“I never beg,” she winks. “You, on the other hand, will, but for very different reasons.”

She is awarded with a tiny smirk and an approval nod.

“Who are you?”

“Raven, personal stalker, at your service. You’re Anya, right?”

“How do you know?”

The tone is cold, detached, a little suspicious, and in that moment, Raven has no doubt that Anya could indeed torture her to death. While it makes her shivers, it also makes her wonder how fascinating that voice must be in other occasions. She shakes that thought out of her mind. She has no time to flirt. For all she knows, that woman might have already called the police on her.

“I saw you on tv,” Raven shrugs. “For the show you’re part of. I think it was the premiere, and they interviewed you.”

“A fan then?”

“Keep your ego in its cage because I’ll tear it down. I was looking at my friend. She was in the back while you were being interviewed. Maybe you know her, her name’s Clarke. She was hanging out with Lexa.”

Anya’s behavior instantly changes and Raven sees the woman struggling from a glacial cover or a warm welcome.

“What do you want?” The tone is prudent.

“Calm down,” Raven puts her hands in front of her, as a tentative of protection. “I’m not your enemy here.”

“How do I know that? Let me tell you something. If you, in any way, are responsible for any future altercations that might cause hurt to Lexa, you will suffer the consequences.”

Raven ignores everything from Lexa’s life. The small details that Clarke deigned to give Octavia and her were, well, details. There are two certainties she’s aware of. One is that Lexa has a complicated history in the relationship area, as does Clarke. Two, Anya’s protective behavior mirrors her own.

It gives her an idea they could both benefit from.

“I’m Clarke’s best friend, Raven. I think I’m right when I say you don’t want anything bad to happen to Lexa? I’m going to answer any question you have, if you answer mine as well. We both want the same thing. And I’m not talking about a sleepless night together, though I’m sure you were thinking about it.”

It takes a few minutes, but Raven finally sees Anya’s stiff posture relax.

“What would you like to know?” She asks, making sure to avoid the last part of Raven’s prior intervention. “Talk fast, I need to be at work soon.”

“I’ll give you a part of Clarke’s story if you allow me to know about Lexa’s. Not all of it, of course, I’ll respect her privacy, but I need to know enough now that they’re dating officially. And I need this conversation to be a secret, I don’t need Clarke going all murderer on me because I sneaked behind her back.”

Raven doesn’t need to know all the dark twists in Lexa’s life. She just needs to make sure none of them will affect Clarke’s life as well.

“Are they?” Anya questions. “Dating?”

“If you ask any of them, no, but I’m not as blind.” Raven shrugs and offers a hand. “So, deal?”

Anya weights the options. On one hand, she doesn’t want to betray Lexa’s trust. However, if she leaves enough details out, it could turn out in a good way. On the other hand, she wants to tell Raven about what Lexa has been through, so the girl can understand better where her best friend is coming from.

She hesitates, but finally shakes the extended hand.

“I met Lexa at the Ark once. I wanted to know who she was. The only thing I got from her was that some woman named ‘Nia’ was bad news. I’m looking out for Clarke, because the way Lexa said that name makes me think something’s up. You know anything about that?”

“What if I do?”

“Lexa said something about blood and revenge. I’m just being careful, anyone would do the same in that situation.” Raven shrugs.

Anya’s posture straightens once again. She glares at Raven with eyes that promise torture.

“I will tell you,” Anya accepts. “But tell me first, what will you do once you get the information you want?”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Raven winks.

“No,” Anya sighs. “This is not what I meant. While I have some questions, I was more asking about anything concerning Nia. Lexa didn’t lie to you, that woman is bad news. Why would you want to know about her?”

Raven is starting to believe the answer will never be given to her and rolls her eyes impatiently.

“Have you not heard a word I just said?” She asks. “I’m looking out for Clarke. She’s ready for a relationship. She says she’s not but she’s lying. And if she’s ready, I have to make sure Lexa won’t break her heart over some unfinished business.”

“Lexa’s business is not for you to judge, unfinished or not. Now, are you the deaf one or should I repeat again? Let me do it, what will you do with the information? I trust that you won’t go and force Lexa to move on?”

“I got that feeling when I was speaking with her… the unfinished business will come and bite their relationship in the ass if I don’t do something to avoid it. Don’t give me that look, it has already happened once, Octavia told me. Lexa will end up hurting Clarke whenever she thinks about that Nia girl. So, you tell me what you know, and I’ll find a way to solve the problem once and for all.”

Anya narrows her eyes skeptically. She knows Nia’s ghost could be a problem, but she also trusts Lexa to not throw a chance at happiness by the nearest window.

“Solve the problem?”

“Seriously, you’re not hearing me, are you? I told you already, I’m Raven.” The mechanic smug smile appears.

Anya has no idea who that Raven woman really is, but the conviction is omnipresent in those words.

“Listen until the end. No question after.” Anya finally declares.

***

They had been on a grand total of three dates, including the first implicit one, and things could not have gone better.

After accompanying Clarke back to her apartment, and endured the teasing looks from the blonde’s two roommates, Lexa had gone home and waited for Anya to come back. She didn’t have to wait long, and soon enough, her exhausted but satisfied friend walked in.

Anya had immediately judged Lexa for being home, stating that she was only joking by telling her she had to come home after the first date.

Anya frankly expected, after seeing the way Lexa freaked out for the entire day of that first date, that she would not see her roommate for the next three days. She even made a bet with herself, and she was sad to lose it, though Lexa really didn’t understand the logic of it.

Instead of digging her own grave, which would have happened no matter what she would have said, Lexa had simply dismissed the comments. Anya still somehow managed to make her spill every single small – irrelevant – detail about the evening.

To say the older woman was surprised at Lexa inviting Clarke at TonDC was an understatement. Anya herself never went there, and apparently, Lexa still had no intention of disclosing the mysterious emplacement to her.

The second date was officially identified as one, and Lexa had to endure the never ending teasing from Anya.

She had accumulated enough ‘you grow up so fast’ comments to last for the rest of her old days, although she also received many ‘I’m so glad to see you smile again’ mentions.

For this second date, Lexa gathered the courage to ask Clarke for her phone number. It turned out to be both the greatest idea of all times, and the fastest way to sign her demise.

They were both terrible texters.

They would usually forget their phones somewhere, and come back hours later with a ton of alerts. They would usually text all night, both struggling to stay awake, yet both pretending they ‘had important things to do at this time.’

Important things, like texting each other.

Clarke didn’t want to sound too boring – she was still convinced she had to prove Lexa she could be fun – so she would often send many emoticons, punctuation marks, and many irrelevant texts about how her day was awful because she was working and Lexa was not at the Ark.

Lexa, on the other hand, didn’t want to sound ‘weak’, as she kept trying to convince her own mind she truly wasn’t. She would send ‘I miss you’ s and ‘I like talking to you’ s disguised in passive indirect messages such:

‘ _I was eating pasta and it reminded me of when you said instant noodles were a decent meal. I am writing to tell they are not’_

_‘I was walking near a pet shot and saw a goldfish and thought of you’_

_‘I saw a doctor on break today and I thought of you even if he was an old sixty years old man’_

Lexa never received any answer to either of these texts.

The third date came when spring ended for real, right after Clarke finished her finals. The med student decided to finish her current semester before focusing on art, and she spent most of it in a zombie state. To celebrate, Lexa had organized the perfect lazy day for them, which was a Netflix marathon coupled with junk food.

Despite Raven’s insistent comments, it had truly been Netflix, and not Netflix and chill.

Well, at least, at first.

Clarke fell asleep twice during the marathon, exhausted from the recent sleepless nights she spent buried in textbooks, and Lexa absently watched the movie while stroking the blonde’s soft hair.

Near the end of the day, Lexa had fallen asleep as well, only to jerk awake abruptly as Octavia woke them up when she came back home, yelling at Raven to ‘come see the two cute cuddling kids and help me convince them to admit they’re in love.’

Only three dates, and yet, they had spent countless days together at the Ark, at the Dropship, and Lexa had even managed to convince Clarke to go back to TonDC.

The duo have known each other for nearly six months, mostly spent gravitating around each other.

Despite going on actual dates, they refuse to label their relationship and still claim they aren’t dating.

Raven and Octavia are not impatient anymore, at this point, they are plainly judging Clarke.

But the fact is, it is complicated.

Lexa is waiting for Clarke, and Clarke is confused.

Confused is probably a pretty useless word at this point.

Clarke is a pure mess.

After months of hesitation, she had finally made up her mind and admitted to herself she felt something for Lexa, which would have been perfect if she had a way to disclose her feelings to the other woman.

Not to mention the fact that her mother had suddenly started talking to her about it after she saw them on tv as well.

Clarke strongly curses the day Raven became familiar with her mother.

Abby Griffin is a great person, but she has a turbulent relationship with Clarke. Both sides agree on this. Calls from her mother are the last things Clarke wants, and yet, that is all she receives these days.

Abby had asked her many times if she could meet the mysterious Lexa, and Clarke had ignored every single question related to her nemesis.

The last thing she wanted was for her mother to meet Lexa. Clarke could already hear the judgment in her mother’s tone if Lexa ever mentioned taking a break from college, no matter the reason.

The result has been an increase of stress and lack of sleep, coupled with overly concerned friends. While Clarke enjoys the extra care her friends gave her, she really just wants a break.

A break from everything, to stop losing her mind.

So Clarke chose the easiest way out to deal with the Lexa Situation: avoidance.

She stopped answering her texts messages, and took two days off at the Ark to concentrate on organizing her plans now that she was taking time off from school. She had lasted a whole two days until she realized that, unfortunately for her, Lexa did not get the same memo.

Lexa texted her a few innocent texts to start.

‘ _Have you seen this picture of a puppy?’_

_‘You were not at the Ark today.’_

_‘Why does Raven have my phone number and how do I make it stop?’_

_‘Why is Raven asking me about protection?’_

_‘Anya told me to tell you the next part of Trigedakru would come out next winter.’_

_Then, they evolved to worried messages, asking if Clarke was alright._

_‘Clarke, I went to the Ark again and you were not there.’_

_‘Are you busy? I apologize.’_

_‘It’s two in the afternoon.’_

_‘Clarke, are you receiving my messages?’_

Clarke was busy, and hadn’t checked her message until way later in the afternoon, when she came back home with an array of canvas and paintbrushes. She was proud of herself, she bought a lot of supplies for a limited amount of money.

The blonde wants to keep her independence, which is why she has a job and buy most things with her own money. Her mother is a simple extended lifeline for more extreme situations, such hospital emergencies.

It had happened once, and Octavia apologized a hundred times for practicing throwing her knives inside the apartment.

Clarke first checked her messages around seven in the evening, and automatically felt bad. The last messages were sent at six thirty and read:

‘ _Clarke, I am worried.’_

 _‘Nevermind, you are probably busy.’_ Not even ten seconds later.

Clarke felt like throwing up. Lexa would never admit being worried without a good reason. Lexa would probably rather engage in a sword fight to death than admit that.

‘Can I come over?’ Clarke sent quickly as soon as guilt lessened its weight on her shoulders.

‘Yes.’ was the immediate response, not even a minute later.

So this is the whole reason why the blonde woman is currently driving at high speed toward Lexa’s house.

While driving around slow drivers, she is going through the thousandth reasons why Lexa would care so much about her not answering her messages, beside the fact that this rupture has been unexpected.

Only one is evident enough to flash in bright yellow neon lights in her head. It has a name, and it is Costia.

Lexa once told her that she messaged Costia the night of her death, and there was no answer.

Clarke went and did the exact same thing, not answering, this time for a whole two days. While the situation is clearly different, and that she is sure Lexa does not depend on her answers, she has no doubt that it must have brought Lexa some painful memories back.

The only acceptable way she can explain herself is in person.

She parks the car and practically runs to the door. Her cardio sucks and by the time she catches her breath, five minutes have passed, and she still hasn’t knocked.

She knocks, the door flies open, and Lexa’s poker face meets Clarke’s flustered one. They stand there, unmoving, and looking awkwardly at each other until Lexa finally invites Clarke in.

“Where’s Anya?”

“She has a representation tonight.”

Lexa looks at Clarke with questions in her eyes, but fears the moment she will put them in words. She refuses to appear weak to the blonde, but she can’t help thinking they have been growing closer, at least before Clarke did a total 180.

Lexa feels like she did something wrong, while kowing she didn’t. It’s a sickening feeling.

She leads Clarke to her living room. While Lexa has never been to Clarke’s place yet, the blonde has been here before, when Anya invited her, claiming she needed to scare Lexa’s potential girlfriend away.

It did not work.

“May I offer you something to drink?” Lexa asks with a calm voice, too calm even.

“Sure. Water would be great.”

They drink in silence.

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I was not worried.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have insisted.”

“I’m trying to apologize here.”

“You don’t have to.”

Clarke rolls her eyes at Lexa’s stubbornness. It is reaching legendary levels. But then again, her levels also are.

She feels that for every step forward, they take five backward. It is a dance she once promised herself to never learn. She broke that promise in some mind blowing way. She only has herself to blame this time.

She really considers the fact that half their interaction is running on sunshine, while the other half is tumbling on dark clouds. She would really like to change that ratio for the best, but she knows she has one final step to take.

It’s all on her.

They remain silent for a while. Lexa doesn’t want to rush a conversation that she’s not sure what will be about, and Clarke doesn’t know how to start it. They both look helplessly around, as if some kind of magical formula will appear in front of them.

They aren’t even sure what the problem is. Maybe they’re making it way bigger than it really is. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding between two people, both trapped in the denial room. Maybe there’s no problem except the simple fact that they were always more than friends, but always too afraid to face this possibility.

“Still, I shouldn’t have ignored you.” Clarke admits. “I was having a hard time with my mother, and while it’s really not a good excuse, I hope you know it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Lexa nods. Clarke sighs. Lexa’s lack of emotional display never bothered her, but right now, she would give her whole heritage to know what the other girl is thinking about.

“I missed you.” Clarke takes the first step forward.

Clarke takes in the way Lexa slowly blinks and glances in her direction. She’s pretty sure Lexa will never admit how worried she truly was. She’s convinced it has to do with Costia, but also even more certain that such thing will never be revealed.

Perhaps Lexa doesn’t want to make Clarke thinks she has to answer every single call and message. Perhaps she doesn’t want Clarke to feel restricted in their relationship, whatever it is. Perhaps she doesn’t want to pressure Clarke because of her own insecurities.

Perhaps it’s all related to the fact that she simply doesn’t want to appear weak.

It could be anything, and Clarke doesn’t ask. It is not her business, and if Lexa doesn’t want to mention it, she won’t either. Still, she somehow feels like she owes the other girl an explanation for her behavior.

“I… did too.” Lexa says, almost as if it physically hurt her to let those words out.

Truth is, Lexa wants to scream to the whole world that she missed Clarke Griffin so much, as if the girl was a vital part of her body that was physically missing.

“My mom’s a pain in the ass. It’s no excuse, like I said, but I want you to understand why I didn’t answer.”

“Clarke, it’s fine.” Lexa insists.

Lexa feels like she is pressuring Clarke to open up and it makes her sick.

“No, you listen.” Clarke nearly orders, making Lexa widen her eyes at the hard tone. “You’re not forcing me, you’re not pressuring me, you’re not doing anything. I want to. I’m not going to break down just because I want to talk to you. You don’t have to protect me.”

Lexa wonders if Clarke will always be able to read her this well when they get old and wrinkled. She stabs that thought as soon as she realizes its existence.

Sometimes she really feels like the Grinch, avoiding feelings and running away from any kind of friendship. Then she remembers they went to dates already, and mostly, she’s not green and hairy. She thinks of how fortunate that is, because if she had been, Clarke would have probably never approached her in the first place.

Lexa briefly wonders if she’s losing her sanity in the presence of the blonde goddess.

Clarke waits for Lexa to interrupt or say anything, but the woman looks at her with curious green eyes, and a hint of amusement.

Clarke still wonders what’s on Lexa’s mind.

***

We all have parents.

Whether we know them or not, whether we have good relationship with them or not, we all have them. For some people, the unique bond between parents and children doesn’t last long. They are forced to move from a family to another, almost subjected to an experiment they never gave consent for, until the right one is chosen for them, regardless of their feeling. They are forced to have more than one ‘parent’, and soon enough, they don’t know which one will still be there in the end.

Some are closed to their parents. So close, they never want to be completely alone without them. They keep their numbers in their phone and reach for it whenever they need a reminder of their safety net. They grew up sharing wonderful moments, and the thought of them being gone is earth shattering. While they survive the blow, they are forever comforted by their distant presence.

Lexa falls in that category.

She has always had a good relationship with both her parents, despite them being distant during her childhood because of work. When they left to travel Europe, she wished them the best. She regularly kept contact with them through mails and skype calls. She had some fond memories of them, and would welcome them as soon as they’d get back.

Some people forget about their parents quickly. They choose not to have them anymore. It doesn’t matter if their reason is valid or not, they just let them go. They let them disappear as they move on and leave their home, which isn’t a home anymore. They let them kill themselves into drugs, alcohol and violence. Those people break the vicious circle.

Raven is the perfect example of a survivor.

She supported her mother for as long as she physically could, until she couldn’t anymore. She borrowed strength from Clarke and Octavia until she was able to regain her own. She is fierce, and she doesn’t need anyone. She built a brace for herself.

Some people lose their parents on the way of growing up. It sucks, and they suffer the universal loss of losing someone precious to death. They learn to survive through the pain, and eventually, to live with it. They carry memories and take time to miss them, because they’ve come to realize that grieving is not a bad thing. They never fully let go of all the ‘what if’ and missed opportunities, but they cherish the past, without letting it control their future.

Clarke has been in that situation since her father’s death.

She would have been ready to move on, as easily as possible. The problem came after, when the truth left a nasty scar on her heart.

Because some people lose their parents in a whole different way. They are close to them, until they aren’t anymore. They love them unconditionally, until they don’t anymore, until they’re torn between the duty to love them, and their desire to hate them. They’re tortured because they don’t know anymore what’s right and what’s wrong. They struggle, only to realize there is no good answer.

They know they’re alive because of their parents, but they also know those same people are responsible for the feeling of deep sorrow that inhabits them. They know they owe them forever, and yet, they want to collect a debt. A debt that represents the amount of love and support that was never given back from the monsters their parents became.

Those people get lost. They act like hypocrites sometimes. They support their parents’ presence whenever they’re with them, and curse their existence at their departure. They fight themselves, because of the guilt that comes from the burden of hating their own parents. They live with the knowledge that they were never supposed to harbor such feelings of hatred.

Clarke joined that situation when her mother turned to someone she did not recognize.

***

“My dad was an astronaut, remember?” Clarke says proudly. “Those guys you see in science fiction movies? He was one of them.”

Lexa smiles at the way Clarke’s eyes brighten at the memory. She remembers a specific night spent sharing little things about each other, and the way Clarke’s voice sounded on the edge of breaking while the girl philosophized about the universe.

“He was great. He taught me about space, stars, galaxies, planets… everything. He wasn’t home often, but when he was, it seems as if he brought the stars with him to illuminate the house. He would tell me about theories concerning space and aliens. I used to be afraid of them, but then he’d tell me stories like how they would come from a planet made of candy.”

Lexa chuckles quietly. The woman facing her is sharing personal stories, and she doesn’t want to miss anything. She can’t help, however, but think maybe this is why Clarke seems to come directly from the sky.

“He was on a mission in the International Space Station. He was supposed to fix some engines linked the pressurization of half the modules. It was more of an evaluation than a clear reparation, he told me before he left. He was supposed to take note of what was susceptible of breaking in the next ten years, so that NASA could find a way to prevent it. They were planning a record long term mission in space, and they needed the ISS to be operational without possible modifications.”

“The mission was simple. Go in space, take note, come back to Earth. Only it wasn’t that simple. It was related to the ozone depletion. It’s becoming an urgent problem, and the ultimate solution would be to send people to space.”

Lexa narrows her eyes. She heard that theory, but that’s what she thought it was, a theory. To know Clarke is related to the truth makes her speechless.

“Basically they wanted to see if they could eventually transform the ISS into something bigger, stronger, to give humans a chance.”

“The engines he needed to evaluate were known to be difficult to access, and the success rate was so low that this mission almost got cancelled.”

“When my dad learned about the whole transformation plan, he was forbidden to tell anyone about it, because, as cool as it may sound, sending people in space wouldn’t make everyone happy. Sacrifices would have to be made. Not everyone would be saved. Of course, he didn’t say anything, but when the checking mission almost got cancelled, he immediately volunteered. He was the ‘save humanity’ type of man.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. She remembers the day like it was yesterday.

“He died. I mean, you pretty much guessed, right?”

She laughs dryly and Lexa swallows the heaviness of the atmosphere.

“He did everything right, but he still died. He went outside the station, took notes, and a bad manoeuver resulted in his oxygen support being crushed by the station itself. I didn’t believe it at first. I mean, surely something that pathetic couldn’t have killed my father. That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it was the true. Some man in a suit came to explain it at home. ‘That’s it. Here’s the schedule, here’s where the accident occurred, here’s monetary compensation, please don’t talk about this to anyone because the mission is secret.’”

Lexa never had to deal with the loss of a parent, so she can only imagine the pain a younger Clarke must have felt at the time. She sees it in the way Clarke’s hands clench almost automatically when she speaks about it, and the way her eyes fill with tears that refuse to fall. She sees it through the expressive nonverbal of her friend, and it physically hurts her too.

“His notes were recorded. NASA got them. So he still saved the world, in a way.” Clarke continues, lost in her mind. “I heard this and I thought ‘wow, my dad’s a hero’ and knowing this, his death should be easier, at least a little.”

“But my mom, she lied to me. She knew about the mission and its danger. She basically knew everything my father did.”

“NASA contacted her the day before the launch. They said that in reality, the chances of him coming back were close to inexistent, but he still wanted to do it. She never told me it was a mission to death. She told me, don’t say goodbye, he will come back. She told me it was regular space mission. She never even told me he would have to leave the Station. She never warned me about any possible complication, even though I was old enough to understand.”

“She let me believe he would be home fine. When he died, do you know how long it took her to tell me? Two weeks. She told me he died two weeks after it actually happened.”

Lexa hears the slight way Clarke’s voice wavers, and the tone underneath the obvious one. She’s crushed. She’s destroyed. She pretends to be strong because she’s talking to Lexa, but she probably simply wants to curl in ball and do nothing. She lost her father, and never had any chance to tell him everything she would have wanted to say.

“She said I had to concentrate on school because I was applying for med school. That’s it. That was the reason why I was refused the right to know. It was like I didn’t matter enough to deserve that simple right.”

Lexa tries not to let her mind wander to thoughts of a younger Clarke, staying awake in the darkness of her room, eyes fixing a ceiling on which are probably stuck glow-in-the-dark stars that she put there with her father.

She tries not to think of a younger girl, watching a documentary about planets and unknown lands while cuddling in the arms of her father.

She tries not to picture a past version Clarke running toward her father whenever he would come home from another mission, bringing a thousand magical stories to tell her.

It breaks her heart.

“She acted like everything was fine, but everything was just a lie. She said she didn’t tell me about the real mission because she wanted to protect me, but really, I can’t take that as an explanation. I didn’t need protection, I needed the truth.”

“She took away the only chance I had to say goodbye. She didn’t let me say goodbye. She didn’t let me know it was goodbye, because ‘you have to study’!”

Lexa feels her heart soaring at the last sentence, because she can relate to it so badly that all she wants is to reach for Clarke and embrace her and never let go. She wants to tell her all the words Clarke probably has heard a million times already, except she would feel them at the core of her soul.

“Since then, we just drifted apart. She wants me to keep going to med school, as you probably already guessed.”

“She calls me sometimes. I answer, sometimes. Most of time I don’t.”

Her words are final. Her eyes flick to Lexa’s for a moment, before she blinks to another direction. She can’t look at Lexa without wanting to disappear in the woman’s arms, and she can’t fall apart, not yet.

“She wants to meet you though.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, waiting for Clarke.

“I mean, if you want to meet her, I guess I could organize something.”

“Do you wish me to meet her?” Lexa asks, always concerned about Clarke’s needs.

The blonde quietly shakes her head.

“Then I will respect your choice.” Lexa murmurs.

“I appreciate it.” Clarke says fondly. “Her calls have been more frequent now that she knows your existence, but all I can think about is, she’ll probably judge you for not going to college or even ask to pay for you. She throws money around like it solves everything, like it’s all I need.”

“It’s alright, Clarke. I would much rather spend time with you.”

“And just because that wasn’t enough, it was just at that time that the shit with my ex started. Because a girl really couldn’t have a break after her father’s death, you know?”

She asks the question with a tone that implies she doesn’t need an answer because life gave her one, and it had been the wrong one.

Her tone switches from an emotional, trembling one to a cold, detached opposite.

“I told you a little about him already. He was a good guy.”

Lexa isn’t sure who Clarke is trying to convince.

“He was. He spoke about world peace and end of injustice. He wanted to be someone who fought for equality and human rights.”

It’s too good, Lexa thinks.

“But then he changed. He always had impulsivity problems, and one day he came at the Ark and just started throwing stuffs at the floor after a bad day. Whenever we had problems, he would gesture in the air and make empty threats. Except they didn’t stay empty long.”

Clarke refuses to look at Lexa, and the emerald eyed woman isn’t sure if it is a good thing or not. She starts to believe it might not have been a good idea to allow Clarke to open so much. It can be cathartic, just like it can have deathly side effects.

“He got into fights. He became violent. He almost hit me once. I broke it off, and learned after that he had been cheating. We parted ways.”

It doesn’t take a second for Lexa to analyze Clarke’s words and understand why her fight with Nia led to such an emotional reaction. Lexa makes the link quickly. By the look Clarke finally decides to give her, the blonde figured Lexa knows as well.

“I would never hurt you.” Lexa feels the need to say, even though words like that aren’t always enough to reassure a person.

Raven’s words come back to her conscious mind.

Anyone is capable of anything.

Clarke doesn’t answer.

Lexa fears the silence like she has never feared anything else in her existence.

“I know.” Clarke says after a few minutes.

The blonde swallows difficultly.

“He started to visit me at work. He wanted to fix things, he said. He wanted us to try again. I got scared and avoided him for a while. We didn’t see each other for days. He would text, but I never answered.”

“I stopped existing. I took a break from my old job, I asked classmates to bring me the homework and notes I’d miss in class and I pretended I was sick. I didn’t leave my bedroom. He had no idea of where I was. My mom was worried, but I mean, at that time, I was mad at her, so I didn’t bother answering her either.”

Lexa frowns. She has no respect for people who can’t take no for an answer.

“He started looking for me. I was told he’d threaten people from my classes. He almost harassed Octavia, but she punched him before he could even open his mouth.” Clarke smiles at the memory, the proud look on Octavia’s face as she told her the story.

“He was out one night, looking for me.”

The next words are delivered painfully through clenched teeth.

“He’s responsible for Raven’s injury. Her leg, you know? He hit her with his car, claimed he couldn’t see her because it was dark. He didn’t even have his headlights on.”

Lexa gasps. She never would’ve imagined Raven’s brace to be part of Clarke’s story in such a personal way.

“He was out. Looking for me. He hit Raven right in the spinal cord.” Clarke repeats, and Lexa hears the self-blame a thousand decibel high.

“I did this.” Clarke whispers, and Lexa can’t stay quiet anymore.

“Are you safe right now?” The brunette asks.

Clarke’s eyes lock on hers.

“What? Lexa, I just told you that Raven - ”

“You heard me.” Lexa interrupts. “I need to know, are you safe right now?”

Clarke nods.

“I am not ignoring what you and Raven went through, Clarke. However, I needed to hear you confirm that you were not under any threats at this moment.”

It’s weakness. Poorly formulated and said with a highly formal tone, but still, the sentence is the portrayal of Lexa’s weakness.

“He’s in jail.” Clarke says. “Raven went to physiotherapy for weeks. She’s strong. She came back from it. She never blamed me, but… that was my limit.”

Clarke stops talking. She has poured her soul to Lexa. The other girl knows everything, and Clarke dreads the reaction like she’s being on trial with death sentence as possible outcome.

She’s an artist. She paints. She’s been painting a lot as a way to let her feelings out. But there’s something else she needs to explain, and she almost forgets to mention it.

“I got drunk. A lot. I spent nights awake just drinking. I spent nights like that, wasted and pathetic. I couldn’t deal with reality. It was too much at the same time. I tried. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t.” Her voice shakes under the emotions that are exploding under the surface of her skull.

“You saw it. At first it was every night. Then it went down to a few days every two or three weeks. I never developed alcoholism, and I’m grateful for it, but I abused so much.”

Lexa stays quiet. It is not her place to tell Clarke what to do when the blonde clearly is capable of judging the situation by herself.

“It’s not constant. I got better. I mean, when we met, at that bar, it was actually the first night in a long time that I controlled myself. It still happens sometimes. It gets bad. I try, Lexa, I really do, like I try to drink water and avoid going out when I’m feeling too much.”

“Raven gave me hell for this, and I thank her now. It doesn’t happen as often, but sometimes it does. You should know.”

You should know if you want to be my friend, because I can’t guarantee you it will never happen again.

Lexa rejects that implicit meaning.

She will be friend with Clarke whether or not alcohol is involved. She became fascinated by Clarke for everything she has been, everything she is, everything she isn’t, everything she will become, and it won’t change.

“Bell’s mom is a lawyer. She recently made sure Finn can’t reach me anymore. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Lexa drinks those words. Nothing more matters than Clarke’s safety, and she doesn’t even try to deny it anymore.

“I went bad. Really bad, I know. I hurt my friends.” Clarke’s tone shifts and suddenly, the warrior, the invincible woman is facing her again.

Lexa doubts that version of Clarke ever left at all.

“You know what? You said having feelings were a sign of weakness, but you’re wrong. Weakness would be to hide from them. I hid from them, and everything went to hell. I accepted them, I recognized them as my own, and I got better. It’s because of feelings that I’m talking to you.”

Lexa is stunned by the force with which Clarke says those words.

Gone is the game of pretend Clarke was playing while speaking about her mother. Now, she is fierce, and sure of herself. She speaks with the tone of a queen about feelings. She believes in every word she says, and Lexa feels like she is asked to do the same.

“Your heart shows no sign of weakness, Clarke.”

Somewhere along Clarke’s story, their hands found each other again, until Lexa’s body became the support for the other woman’s. Lexa’s arms surround Clarke’s form with delicateness from behind, and they both partly lay on the couch comfortably.

“I see you.” Lexa adds, because she feels like there is only one right thing to say.

She sees her, and she fully accepts her. There was never any other option to Lexa.

These words transport them back to that night, weeks ago, their first party together with Clarke’s friends, during which Clarke had thrown Lexa a simple dare.

“Do you?”

Lexa nods, and Clarke has never been so thankful for Lexa’s ability to convey so much, using so little words.

There are too many things left unsaid between them, Lexa thinks.

Those unspoken thoughts fill the air with static noise, waiting to be transformed to something understandable by the two of them. There are about a trillion ways to translate them, but none seems to fit well enough.

Words are too direct, and kisses are too abstract. The light embrace the two are sharing is a comfortable middle, but it doesn’t convey a quarter of what they need to say.

The puzzle of moments they spent together, the blur they crawled through separately, only to end up on the same road, it all makes sense suddenly.

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Lexa is surrounded by a forest of feelings she long thought she would never feel again, emotions she used to classify as purely inexistent. High lifeless trees rise to the infinite and block her from escaping, wherever she looks. Whenever she wants to speak, mountains emerge from the ground, absorbing her words, and despite all her efforts, she can’t find a way to break them down.

She sees herself back at her old house before it was destroyed, sitting on the roof, staring at the almost invisible stars.

This time, she’s guided by a sky filled with the brightest shooting stars.

“What are we?” Lexa’s voice is hesitant, she doesn’t even recognize it. She isn’t even sure how she found the strength to pronounce these words.

Clarke is suspended in space, immobile, surrounded by emptiness, doomed.

She sees places she could take a grip on to pull herself back to someplace safe, but her hands can’t reach anything. She desperately tries to move, but without any force to direct her, in a world void of gravity, she can only float in place for eternity.

She’s thinking about removing her helmet to spare herself of the slow suffering.

She suddenly notices a giant tree from the earth under, extending its branches toward the sky, almost as if it was reaching for her.

She grabs it, and never let it go.

“Whatever you want us to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the mistakes
> 
> Next chapter: 'Catch me, I'm falling' in which they go skydiving! :D 
> 
> Time since the fire: 2 years and 3 months  
> Time since the first meeting at the bar: 6 months.
> 
> I have started writing an epilogue. I have the main plot, but I lack inspiration for some part, so if there's any particular interaction you'd like to see, feel free to comment here or message me on twitter @mcevilqueen, and i'll try to fit it if I didnt already include it in the future chapters,
> 
> Kudos will help me survive episode 303, which you know, should be useful if you guys want next chapter. I mean, dat sneak peek.


	10. Catch me, I'm falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they go skydiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos :) This is one of my favorite chapters :)

**Catch me, I’m falling**

_Time is relative._

_Seconds can be minutes, minutes can be hours, hours can be days, days can be months, months can be years, and years can be seconds. It all depends on how you feel, right at this moment. In the end, it’s all that matters. Five minutes can mean the world if you’re standing next to the one you care about. It can pass by at light speed, and once it’s over, ten seconds seem like an eternity without your second half._

_The few seconds you spend with the one who makes you hate yourself can last for years in your head. They can just say “hi”, and suddenly, it’s like time has slow down so much you wonder if that’s your cue to die and leave this world. It’s a disease spreading by the air you breathe and the water you drink, by the source of life itself._

_Flash back, and you’re standing before a volcano, watching your world crashing down, back to ashes as your breathing becomes slower, and slower, and slower._

_Flash forward to a new place. Two AM, you’re lying in your bed, watching the ceiling, trying to see some invisible shooting stars you could make a wish for. You see a plane and wish for your life to be back together._

_The sun is rising in the sky, and you’re standing by the window, hoping time would stop, because it goes on way too fast, and you’re terrified to be left behind._

_Everyone’s moving forward, but you’re stuck at the same place, forever and ever watching them walking away._

_And suddenly, you wish time would move at the speed of light so everything would blur, and you wouldn’t have to watch them painfully leaving you alone by yourself. You curse all those people in white coats who pretend to know better, and your eyes lock on a blue parachute spiraling in the sky._

_Fast forward, the white coats are gone, you’re free, but left by yourself at the doors. The harsh reality catches up, and you don’t want to be left behind. It scares you, it paralyzes you in the past, and you know you can’t stay there anymore. Past days try to seduce you with their sweet memories and miracles, but you avoid their touch like a fast sprinter._

_You drink._

_You look behind. The past days are gone. They’ve been gone for weeks now, but their shadows still hover over your head, like a guillotine. At least, you’re not directly under their hold._

_Tick, tock, tick, tock, time’s running out and you must decide. Left, right? North, South, West, East? What’s the difference anyway? They all lead to the same place. Seconds seem like years, and your body is only exhausted of running away._

_You glance next to you and find yourself lost into a deep shade of blue. You think if time could stop now, that would be perfect. But it doesn’t. It flies by even faster than before, and before you realize it, you’re barely allowed to breathe. You have stopped running and can’t catch up with the blue shade._

_And by the moment you feel her hand on yours, the touch has been removed already._

_You suddenly wish you could go back in the past._

_You close your eyes, and you imagine the moment, the moment when this soft touch was enough to give you the energy to run across the world. You still lose yourself again in that azure color, hoping time will be nice enough to slow down a little, because you don’t want to run, and you want to catch up._

_You’re back to running because you have no choice. You manage to find her again._

_And you hold this hand as if it was the reason you were alive. You hold it, and keep it, and get close to the body next to you. And you embrace it, closer and closer, until there’s nothing between, until your own body is pressing it with the energy of despair._

_You hold onto thoughts of never letting go mixing in your troubled mind, because who knows what might happen if you did._

_You want her. She can’t leave you alone. You want her more than air and water, more than the blood running through your veins right now. You want her desperately, because you can’t imagine yourself without._

_And slowly, you hear her too. This melodious voice, in your ear, giving you a choice, a chance for you to take. The owner of this voice is close. She moves even closer._

_You heard the words. You don’t know what ‘whatever you want us to be’ truly means, but you have a good idea._

_You know it would take a few seconds to lean closer and own those lips, but you can’t. No matter how much you want it, you remember what happened last time you tasted those lips, and you fear the same rejection will happen._

_You can feel the warm air coming out from her mouth. You can feel how close your lips are from hers. You know she wants it too, but this time, you can’t move._

_You’re not running, you’re barely moving, and you realize time finally, finally, decided to slow down._

_You’re so close, so close to kill this ravine between you two, and yet you stand at an astronomical distance from her. Your eyes keep fixing hers, telling her everything that can’t be said._

_And she kisses you, and the softness takes away the fear._

*******

Raven is running. She is late and she hates being late. She hates late people. She doesn’t want to have to hate herself today. She has always been the first one to arrive wherever, so that ‘her awesomeness is the first thing people notice when they join.’

She did everything great this morning, when she woke up excessively early. She set her alarm again, made sure the volume was at its maximum, and went to the kitchen to grab a snack. She made the one little mistake of falling back to sleep on the couch and totally missed her alarm.

She regrets every single minute of sleep because her cardio is failing and she can’t stop running. She’s on a tight schedule, and, despite having plenty of time today, doesn’t want to shift her timeline.

It has been like this for a few days already, and there is no way she would commit a mistake today.

She has five minutes to catch the bus that will arrive in two minutes. It all starts in that bus. The whole point of her little secret mission depends on that bus. If she misses it, she risks losing track of everything following.

***

It’s eight in the morning and Clarke wakes up to Raven running outside the apartment like a madwoman. She doesn’t even have time to ask her best friend where the emergency is before she receives a door slammed to her face.

What an amazing way to wake up on her birthday.

She makes her way to the kitchen and looks at the time. She has one hour before Octavia wakes up and drags her outside for ‘the most epic day’ as the dark haired woman calls it.

Clarke eats silently. She appreciates lazy summer mornings where she doesn’t need to hurry for work or school. They are rare, but she took a day off to celebrate her birthday. It’s not like she had any choice actually, because Octavia made her promise three times that she’d have the day off.

She answers the few text messages she already has received. Her mom, of course, has sent her a long message full of smileys around six in the morning, but also Jasper and Monty, who tell her how excited they are for the day. She’s surprised when she notices one from Raven, who apologizes for not being available to jump off a plane with her today.

Clarke still can’t believe that her best friend, the one who’s practically always bragging about fun and celebrations, has something more important to do today than taste the sweet nectar of adrenaline.

Months ago, Raven had been the one who convinced her to do the big jump for the first time. Hell, Raven would be the one person to convince anyone on earth to do the big jump.

The weather today is great. She can see a few clouds at the horizon, but she knows they won’t alter her plans. Octavia would kill her if she cancelled anyway.

_How should I dress?_

Clarke flinches at the buzz of her phone breaking the quiet morning and she feels herself smiling like the whipped woman that she is.

It’s Lexa. Lexa, the woman who managed to change Clarke’s life without using heart shattering ways. Lexa, the warrior went through hell and back, and survived. Lexa, the sensitive human being who guarded her heart with a hand of steel.

And she is Clarke, the woman who shook that hand of steel and slowly unlocked that heart.

They still haven’t put any label on their relationship, despite Clarke’s words. They decided to qualify themselves as “whatever we want us to be” and it has been perfect so far.

They don’t need anything to confirm or deny the presence of feelings, certainly not a label. They simply are. They simply feel. They simply know.

_Casual. Outdoor._

Clarke invited Lexa today, because even though the other girl had no idea it was Clarke’s birthday, the blonde still wanted to spend the day with her.

_Where are we going?_

Clarke smirks. She has no idea how Lexa feels about skydiving, but she wants to witness the reaction in person.

_You’ll see. Be ready at 9:30!_

Octavia and Bellamy’s father has a friend who owns the Skydiving School, and he would let them have a jump for a fraction of the cost. Barely a year ago, Clarke had her first jump. She nearly died, but she also felt so alive that she had decided to do it again, and again.

_Clarke, I do not enjoy surprises._

In fact, the whole group enjoyed it so much the first time that they had all decided to take classes to be solo jumpers. After a twenty minute simulation in a wind tunnel, one jump with two instructors, four jumps with one instructor and three solo jumps, they received their graduation certificate from the Skydiving school and were now allowed to jump solo whenever pleased them.

_You’ll love this one!_

Jasper once made a lame joke about them being the Sky People. Clarke had laughed at him for a long time before realizing he was right. Skydiving was their group’s tradition now.

_Can’t you tell me?_

_Trust me? :)_

Clarke receives no answer and giggles as she imagines Lexa’s resigned face.

“Happy birthday!”

Clarke is engulfed in a hug from behind and pretends to choke. Octavia releases her grip.

“So, are you ready to troll gravity again?”

“Always am, O, always,” Clarke replies. “You ready to go?”

She doesn’t need to ask. Octavia opens the door and makes a grand gesture with her hand, like Clarke is the queen, which might be true for the day.

“You don’t need to eat?”

“Already did. You would have noticed my presence, and seriously I made like, so much noise, if you weren’t so busy texting your girlfriend.”

Clarke is one millisecond away from opening her mouth to deny her friend’s words when she stops herself, dumbfounded. She cannot deny something that is true, no matter how hard she wants.

She almost laughs at the comical situation.

She wants nothing more than to shove back Octavia’s teasing down the girl’s throat, but she can’t. For the first time, she can’t, and she doesn’t even care that she can’t. She can only stare at her friend with the most adorable confused look on her face.

“Clarke? You okay in there?”

“Yeah. Just thinking that you were right.”

“Of course, I’m right! I’m not like Raven, I’- wait what?”

Clarke just shrugs. She has kept quiet on the status of their relationship so far. Saying Octavia is right is the closest thing to admitting she and Lexa are dating and she knows her friend receives the same message.

Octavia’s eyes are close to pop out of her head. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, searching for words that don’t want to be found. She holds the door open long after Clarke has gone to start the car.

She’s speechless. She spent two years, two long and painful and torturous years, watching Clarke running from a person to another, accumulating phones numbers she would never use, collecting one nights and destroying any potential relationships. She spent nights doing secret rituals with Raven in the darkness of their rooms, hoping it would throw Clarke back on the right path.

And now that Clarke finally decided to get herself a girlfriend…

“Damn it Griffin, you CAN’T!” Octavia yells when she takes the backseat of Clarke’s car.

They’re going to pick Lexa and Bellamy, and Octavia already knows who Clarke would rather be sitting next to. Jasper and Monty have their own car and will join them directly at destination.

“What do you mean, I can’t?”

“You can’t play it cool! It’s a big deal! It’s the first time you’re in a serious relationship since Finn, and you act like it’s nothing.”

“We’re not married, relax. We’re taking it slow.”

“See? Slow isn’t part of your vocabulary either, but there you go, using it! ”

They are halfway to Bellamy’s place and Octavia can’t wait to have her brother’s support. She’s a hysterical mess, trying to convince Clarke to spill everything, but the blonde resists the attack with the strength of standing a medieval castle.

They finally make their way to Bellamy’s place, and see him waiting patiently for the car to stop. He looks like he spent the night awake, and Clarke is pretty sure she sees a female shadow lurking somewhere.

She doesn’t have time to question him, because as soon as the male sibling closes the Lexus’s door, Octavia’s voice exclaims:

“SHE’S DATING LEXA!”

Bellamy’s sleepy eyes light up.

“Clarke?” He questions calmly.

At least, Clarke thinks, there is one Blake that knows what politeness is.

“We’re not… well. We kind of are.” The driver says reluctantly.

“Please don’t be so enthusiastic when she arrives.” Bellamy deadpans. He turns to his sister. “They’re going to break up today if she keeps that face.”

Octavia nods vigorously.

“I made a bet with Raven and Bell, who asked who to be their girlfriend?”

The blonde rolls her eyes at the childish attitude and she doesn’t even know why that surprises her. She throws a murderous look toward the backseat, where the two angels are sitting. She doesn’t mention that she did the same bet with Raven about Octavia and Lincoln, or Bellamy and Echo.

“Nobody asked anything. We just decided that we weren’t simple friends anymore.”

“Were you ever?” Bellamy eyes narrow.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Shut up, O. you guys better behave better than that when she’s here.”

Clarke wonders if it would be rude to call Lexa and tells her everything is cancelled, but she’s two minutes away. She mentally prepares herself for Jasper and Monty’s reaction, and hopes for the best. Whatever that will be, it can’t be as bad as the knowing look she still receives from the Blake.

She stops the car and is about to text Lexa that she is here when the green eyed woman exits the building.

“Look at that, she’s been waiting for you.” Bellamy smirks.

White printed t-shirt, tight skinny jeans, white converse, messy hair and flannel shirt tied around her waist, she rocks the ‘just woke up flawless’ look, and Clarke can’t help but stares.

“How did I ever think that girl was not gay.” Octavia’s false monotone voice says. “Oh wait, I never, you know, because she’s such a walking stereotype today.”

“Bellamy, tell your sister to stop.”

“I agree with O.”

Clarke is about to answer when Lexa opens the door. Octavia chuckles at how quick Clarke’s anger seems to fade away.

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

They stare at each other for moment before Lexa sits. Her hand joins Clarke’s and both sigh in relief, like they always do when they are in contact

“Is that really how you two say hello?” Bellamy mumbles.

“You can kiss, we won’t look,” Octavia speaks. “Well, Bell may, but I would never.”

The duo embarrassedly ignores the intervention and Clarke starts driving toward their final destination. She’s excited to share that part of her with Lexa. She wonders if she will finally be able to scare the girl who scares her everyday.

It almost counts as a date, if she forgets the loud presence of the Blake siblings. Luckily for Clarke, her two friends decide to give her a break, and act like normal human being around Lexa. The blonde almost lets herself think that this could end in a good way, but her dream is shattered only five minutes later.

“SO, Lexa, you like heights?” Octavia asks innocently.

Clarke groans. She knows Octavia knows Lexa ignores where they are heading. The predatory look on her friend’s face tells her all she needs.

“I do not mind.” Lexa hesitantly answers. “Why are you asking?”

“Are you serious?” Bellamy interrupts. “Clarke, you haven’t told her where we’re going? It’s not like an innocent roller coaster ride, you need to warn people about that.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Bell. I checked if Lexa had any physical condition that would be problematic and there isn’t. Other than that, she can handle the surprise.”

Lexa’s eyes widen at the mention of ‘physical condition’ because this is the least reassuring thing.

“I don’t like roller coasters,” Lexa says.

“Well, shit,” Octavia laughs. “Can I ask what you don’t like about them?”

“They go fast and they carry you to different directions for no purpose. They can crash and you can hurt yourself. I see not entertainment point in all this,” Lexa explains.

Clarke almost, almost lets out a moan. She’s going to screw the day because she wanted the activity to be a surprise to Lexa, but she has a feeling that said surprise won’t be appreciated. Bellamy and Octavia exchange glances. Their eyes reach Clarke’s in the rearview mirror. They all think the same thing.

“Well, good thing we’re not going to an attraction park.” Bellamy whispers before turning his attention to the landscape.

The crew remains quiet for the rest of the ride, but Clarke can’t help throwing worried looks toward Lexa the whole time. She needs a plan B, and she has none. The school offers skydiving experience, nothing else. They do have a little restaurant, but Clarke doubts she can pretend the whole point of having an hour drive was to taste their food.

She tries not to let her mood fall too much. She was looking forward to share this unique activity with Lexa, but she won’t force her. She can always tell Bellamy and the others to jump while she and Lexa look at them from the ground. Seeing people in the sky is almost as impressive and beautiful as seeing the scene from above.

Clarke drives with one hand, holding Lexa’s in the other. Lexa notices the view changes from city to rural area. She looks at the farms and tries to fight the confusion off her system. After the third pack of cows she sees, she can’t help herself anymore.

“Where are we going?”

Nobody answers. Even Octavia decided to tone down the teasing, and that scares Clarke more than anything else.

“We’re almost there.” Clarke swallows the unease feeling.

Fifteen minutes later, Lexa gets her answer as she stands before a medium sized building surrounded by small planes around. She looks up and notices the tiny rectangles of different colors navigating the sky. She almost skips out of the car to look at them. She notices the people standing in line, wearing special red and white uniforms equipped with a few harnesses, as they board one of the planes. She turns to Clarke with a thousand questions in her eyes and the blonde can only throw a hesitating smile at her direction.

“Surprise?” She asks.

Lexa closes her eyes a moment, and when she reopens them, a spark of excitement is born in them. Clarke breathes a little easier.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I should’ve told you. I was stupid not to. Of course, not everyone would like to jump off a plane and fall from the sky and defies death. I just, I don’t know, you showed me a part of you when you invited me to that restaurant so you know, I thought I should do the same. But I mean, I know a restaurant is very different from skydiving. It doesn’t include food. Or anything relaxing. It just… I like the view from up there. It’s great. And liberating. And maybe I thought it would do great to do. I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed but-“

“Breathe, Clarke. It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“I think it will be a great activity to try.”

Clarke smiles shyly.

Lexa wonders if the feeling of jumping off a plane will ever surpass the way she feels when she sees Clarke smiling at her. She’s ready to bet everything she has that the answer is negative.

The path to the entrance is boarded by small flags flipping through the effect of the small breeze. Giant pictures of people falling from the sky are plastered on the walls when they enter.

They are welcome by the usual staff. The employees aren’t surprised to see them anymore, as the group spends a lot of their summer time here. They even have uniforms saved with their nametags. It makes them proud. First step, skydiving, next step, the moon.

“Clarke! Happy birthday!” Jasper’s voice resonates.

The blonde turns her head and waves her free hand at Jasper, the other one still clasped with Lexa’s, under the amused look of Octavia.

Jasper arrived just ten minutes before them. The boy already has his signature goggles around his forehead. He always takes the same to jump. He says they give him luck. Clarke doesn’t believe it. She’s rather believe it’s because some employee named Maya once told him they look great on him.

“Thanks Jasper,” she smiles widely. “Where’s Monty?”

“He had a last minute emergency. Said something about Raven calling him. He told me to give you this balloon.” Jasper shrugs as he hands Clarke a bright yellow helium balloon.

“Hum. Thanks? Raven, really?”

Jasper nods, clueless. They had been driving for five minutes when Monty received an urgent text message and had asked to be left behind today. He apologized.

“What’s up with these two cancelling on my birthday.” The blonde pouts slightly.

She feels a light squeeze from Lexa’s hand as the woman leaves for a moment, required to sign papers and watch a small video introducing her to the world of parachutes. The staff makes sure Lexa is comfortable with the activity, and notes her weight to make sure she respects the qualification to jump with Clarke.

They all have their personal uniform, and they all chose different colors when they decided to have them made to measure. Bellamy’s uniform is black, Jasper’s is navy, Octavia’s is a bright red and Clarke’s is blue. Lexa’s will be a regular one, considering it is her first time. The number of clips and harnesses is impressive, and the number of times she has to ask Clarke for help is almost embarrassing, but the blonde finds it extremely charming.

“You never told me it was your birthday.” Lexa mentions as they walk behind the other three, on their way to change in their skydiving uniforms.

Clarke snaps a couple of subtle pictures with her phone, immortalizing the moment the Great Lexa asked for help. She will want to remember that later. She probably will want to print those pictures and hang them on the walls of her apartment to remind her that, no, Lexa is not invincible and all perfect. 

“It’s not important.”

“You’re mad because Raven and Monty are not here. I believe that means it is important.”

Lexa has a point. Clarke just didn’t want to make it a big deal with Lexa.

“I’m not mad, I’m just wondering what’s going on with them. I really didn’t want to you to bother about that. It’s just another day I wanted to spend with you. No big deal.”

“I could have gotten you something.”

“You’re here. It’s all I need.” Clarke blushes. “I mean, it’s the first time we really go out with my friends as, well, what we are. And I appreciate your efforts of dealing with those dorks. I know the teasing can be insupportable.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Octavia yells from across the room where she is waiting to receive her backpack.

Apparently their parachute bags are still not ready, so they have to wait an extra half hour. They could use others, but they got used to theirs, and would rather wait. They can’t rush the process, because the way parachutes are folded is the key to why they won’t crash later that afternoon. They can’t take any chances on that.

“Your friends are great, don’t worry.” Lexa says. “I would have planned something, is what I meant.”

Something special, Clarke thinks. A moment for the two of them only. The thought makes her feel like she’s already in the sky.

“You don’t need to plan anything.” Clarke assures.

Lexa nods, still unsure. The blonde catches it and tugs at Lexa’s hand.

“Come on. I got to tell you a few things before we jump.”

After a lot of hesitation, Clarke agreed to jump in tandem with Lexa. She had two choices. Either she let Lexa jump with a professional instructor, either with her, considering she had enough experience to jump with someone.

She had thought about it a long time. On one hand, she clearly wanted to be the one to make Lexa experience her first jump. No one forgets the first jump. It is the moment where your whole life takes new significance. On the other hand, if she screwed up, she would be the one to drag them both to hell. That puts a lot of pressure on her state of mind, considering she cares deeply about Lexa.

She is confident in her ability to not screw up, of course, but with Lexa’s body pressed to her, she doubts she would be able to keep a professional face so much. She has to.

She had also convinced Bellamy to jump at the same time as them. She wants to immortalize the moment, and nothing is better than a camera to do this. This is the only detail she chooses to omit when she explains the procedure to Lexa as they wait for the plane to arrive.

Monty’s balloon will be waiting for them when they come back to the ground. Jasper’s chatting with Bellamy while Octavia jumps excitedly on place.

“We board the plane one by one. You go first, I will be the next. You take the farthest seat available.”

“Does that mean…”

“Yes, we will be the last ones to jump”

Lexa’s face goes white. Somehow, totally irrationally, the thought of jumping last makes her adrenaline doubles. Clarke notices it and fights the urge to laugh. Lexa has been pretending to be a badass for so long, and the blonde is almost glad to be the one in control this time.

“Now, try to remember because it will be loud in the plane and I can’t yell too much. When I tell you, you need to turn your back to me and you will have to sit on me. I have the harness and will fix it to you. The position is important because you will need to get on your knees after.”

Lexa’s white face evolves in a bright red blush and Clarke’s features soon follow when Octavia winks at them suggestively, whispering something about parachute sex under her breath.

“I mean, you will have to kind of sit on me for a few seconds so I can attach the harnesses together. You will be stuck in front of me when we jump.”

Lexa’s face goes back to the white sheet taint and Octavia laughs.

“You’re making competition to a chameleon.”

“Stop it, O, we need concentration. So, you sit, I attach the harnesses. Then, people will jump before us. We wait for them to jump completely, and we wait for the green light to go off. The pilot controls it. Bellamy is the only one who will be with us. He will be holding the metallic bar at the exterior of the plane so he can check if everything’s fine.”

Clarke ‘forgets’ to mention Bellamy’s camera.

“You will need to cross your arms on your chest. You can’t uncross them until I tug at them after we jump. It’s really important. Once I do, you place them like that, a 90 degrees angle with your elbows, and palms down.” Clarke says with an unusual serious voice.

Her head is compiling all information she needs Lexa to know, and she’s scared to forget something. She can’t forget anything.

“You cross your legs from behind and you bend your knees like that.” She mimes. “You need to place them between my own legs while we’re skydiving, and keep them there. When we fall, I’m going to be attached from behind.”

Octavia coughs and winks again, which Lexa promptly ignores.

“Do you understand? Do you have questions?”

Lexa shakes her head. Sit, wait, cross, uncross, legs between Clarke’s. She gets it.

“We’re going to be on free fall for about a minute before I open the parachute. Then we’ll have another few minutes in the air. We jump from 13 000 feet, around 4 500 meters high.”

A whole minute, Lexa thinks, is a long time to reflect on all the things that could go wrong.

“That’s why,” Clarke continues, “if you want to say something about not going, it’s now or never. Are you afraid of heights? Do you have vertigo? Do you get sick in planes? It’s important we know.”

Clarke has gone full instructor persona and, while the professionalism reassures Lexa, it also makes her miss the woman behind.

“I’m okay, Clarke.” Lexa says with confidence.

She’s not lying. She’s ready to try this, and more importantly, she trusts Clarke.

That takes a whole new dimension now that she’s about to jump off a plane from 4300 meters up.

She wishes Clarke never mentioned the exact height.

They board the plane, one after another, and crawl together in the tiny space while the engine comes to life. It roars louder as the plane leaves the ground, and Lexa watches, fascinated, as everything becomes smaller and barely visible.

Clarke was right, it’s loud. Lexa stares as everyone, usually chatty and border annoying, is staring at the plane floor, concentrating on their breathing and probably remembering all emergency procedures. She notices Bellamy’s helmet has a small camera on it and frowns. What is it for? He looks ridiculous.

She doesn’t have time to think more about it. They’ve arrived. They’ve reached the required altitude, and when Lexa dares look through the tiny window, she starts regretting her choice.

Her heart is no longer racing anymore, it’s breaking the sound barrier.

She grew up amongst trees. She grew up on Earth, literally and figuratively. Unlike Clarke, who now clearly more than ever, seems to have come from above, Lexa does not have any confidence in falling from the atmosphere.

She watches silently as Octavia makes the first jump, throwing them a thumb’s up, a wide exhilarating expression on her face. Her tiny figure disappears, taken away by the wide opening at the back of the place, where wind is flowing and clouds are waving.

“She actually enjoys it?” Lexa can’t help but say out loud, like this possibility cannot exist.

Just because she decided to trust Clarke doesn’t mean she’s going to enjoy such an activity.

She watches as Jasper prepares to do the same, his huge goggles protecting his face. He seems way more nervous now that Octavia’s gone, but still, he puts on his brave face. Lexa never sees him jump, because Clarke tugs at her sleeve at the same time, telling her to start the steps to the ultimate moment.

She sits, her back to Clarke’s front, and waits as the blonde woman patiently attaches everything correctly. Her heart is about to explode. Jasper is gone, and Bellamy is outside the plane, holding to the machine only by hand. He’s flying with the plane, and the sight is magnificent. He could let go and fall, or he could follow that plane wherever it goes, to the end of the world.

Clarke signs her that everything is ready and they walk together toward the opening. Lexa kneels at the border between the plane and the void, her knees never touching the floor, thank to Clarke’s pull above her.

“Tell me if there’s anything.” Clarke says once more.

The sight is marvelous.

She’s above the clouds, almost as high as the sun, and she sees everything.

The clouds are tiny regular cotton-candy-like dots under her, and she can see thin threads of water that represents huge rivers on earth. She can barely see any houses, or anything that reminds her of the human colonization of the planet.

She sees Octavia’s red parachute from above, and Jasper’s falling figure under them. She explores with her eyes the green, brown, yellow, pink, even red, lands on the ground. From up here, they look like giant painting.

She almost cries at the sight of all the vast space in front of her, the word ‘liberty’ flashing through her mind. There are no birds in the sky, no sign of life at all, just emptiness.

She looks up.

The blue horizon extends in front of her eyes. The gradient of colors, from the white of the clouds to the royal blue of the sky, to the navy of the upper atmosphere, until the darkness of space, she takes in everything. It’s all punctuated by the blinding sun rays. The farther she looks, the smaller she feels.

She feels the wind on her face, but it is more like a gently caress than the hard slap she had expected.

Lexa doesn’t hold to anything. She isn’t in contact with the plane anymore. The only reason she’s not falling head first is because Clarke firmly grips the side of the opening, and Lexa thinks that this is the ultimate level of trust.

She feels a tug on her shoulder and looks behind for a second. Clarke’s eyes are on her, piercing through the plastic glasses she wears for protection. The blonde girl silently asks Lexa is everything is fine. Lexa nods, and she realizes that she might never be able to say no to anything Clarke asks.

“You’re ready?” She sees Clarke mouths.

“No,” Lexa admits, “but we shall go anyway.”

Clarke then looks at Bellamy, who smiles at her fondly.

The light turns green, and they jump in perfect synchrony, even sharing a quick high five.

Lexa screams.

She screams like she has never screamed in her entire life.

The gentle wind has become a tornado, making it hard for her to breathe. It slaps her violently, attacking her face like planet Earth itself was trying to protect her from the fall, to save her from the possible collision with the ground.

She screams louder. That’s what Clarke told her to do if she ever had difficulty to breathe, and right now, she can’t fill her lungs with anything and she’s panicking at the thought.

Lexa feels like the earth is twirling around her. She thinks she’s being thrown from one side of a washing machine to another. She thinks they’re doing a 360 twirl in the air, and maybe that’s why the ground is upside down.

She feels herself being brought back to a horizontal posture, and suddenly, she can breathe again.

She keep screaming, not because of the need to breathe, but because of the thousand feelings stabbing her right now. She looks straight ahead, because that’s what she learned to do. She’s surprisingly not cold, but she blames it on the blood rushing in every part of her body.

She feels Clarke pulling her crossed arms apart, and suddenly, she’s not curled anymore, and she’s flying.

She stops screaming.

They’re falling, but Lexa doesn’t feel like she’s falling. She strangely thinks that they are stuck in between, in a strange dimension in which they are not moving, not quite falling, but not quite immobile either. The ground doesn’t seem to get closer. The clouds are still under her, and the sun still remains at the same height before her.

Time has stopped, and she’s stuck mid-air, in between worlds.

She’s floating.

She can’t close her eyes, afraid of missing a moment. She notices Bellamy in front of them, looking directly at her, probably aiming his camera at them, but she doesn’t care. She’s too busy enjoying this sensational view.

The parachute still remains in Clarke’s bag, folded neatly.

Lexa eyes are in wonderland. She makes one with the sky. She breathes air that is barely polluted. She grasps atoms in her bare hands. She hears nothing, nothing but Clarke’s voice reminding her to ask if anything goes wrong.

Not that Clarke could do anything at this point, but Lexa is grateful for the blonde’s need to take care of her.

Frankly, Lexa can’t think of anything that could go wrong. Not when she’s experiencing the feeling of freedom in such a phenomenal way.

Bellamy falls from their sight. He disappears at high speed under Clarke and Lexa’s level as the blonde opens her parachute. His black safety net opens just a few seconds after, but in those few seconds, Lexa realized how fast they were actually heading to the ground. Extremely fast, faster than anything she had ever experienced.

She swallows the fear that threatens to make its appearance.

The blue parachute is keeping them alive. Now that they have stopped falling, Lexa is stunned by the absolute silence that surrounds them. The whistling of the strong wind has stopped its song.

She can hear her own breathing, stabilizing slowly. She can hear Clarke whispering in her ear, asking her how she feels. Lexa can’t offer any answer that would make justice.

They’re slowly planning now, and both girls can take the time to appreciate the sight. Clarke will never get over how beautiful it is, and Lexa will never experience anything quite like that in her life.

Lexa’s eyes focus on a small building, slightly hidden by trees. Her breath catches in her throat.

The hospital. The hospital she stayed at, now so many months ago.

She glances up for a second at Clarke’s parachute. She doesn’t see it clearly, but from the corner of her eyes, she judges the color. The second the blue reaches her retina, she gasps.

She’s brought back to her little room, empty of life and motivation, with the only small window for company. She thinks of the moment she saw that blue parachute for the first time, belonging to the sky.

She thinks, maybe Clarke has been there for longer than she thought.

She thinks, maybe Clarke has always been there.

She thinks, Clarke really did fall from the sky to reach her.

Her eyes shoot to every other part of the land, which is slowly growing larger under them. She doesn’t want to focus on the small building. She appreciates seeing it though, it does not only bring painful memories anymore.

Clarke guides the ride perfectly, and even allows Lexa to hold the heavy cables with her.

"Just pull a little on the left." She teaches, and Lexa obeys.

They twirl in the sky as the parachute catches the wind from a different angle. It starts slowly, but the speed increases faster than Lexa's expectations and she lets out a surprised squeal, to Clarke's amusement. They spin for a moment, performing an aerial ballet in the horizon, catching the full view with their mental cameras, before Clarke steadies their position.

“Let’s pass through a cloud.”

Lexa has never heard anything more magical in her life.

She’s sad when she realizes clouds are back above them, at their rightful place.

Too soon enough, they are back on the ground, where Bellamy, Octavia and Jasper are patiently waiting for them. They get rid of the heavy parachute and join them, Lexa still with her head high above.

“So?” Clarke asks, a smile on her lips.

Now that the fall is over, she feels calmer. There were no complications to the most stressful flight of her entire life. She did it perfectly, and no one got hurt, and now she can truly appreciate the sight of Lexa.

Emerald eyes scan Clarke, head to toes, and Lexa fights the urge to hug the life out of the divine girl.

They take in the sight of messy golden hair, flustered face, slightly parted lips, sapphire eyes. They absorb Clarke's wild look and nervous posture. They drink the sight of her looking so unsure, but marked with expectations on her face.

“You’re beautiful.” Lexa’s first words back on the ground shake the other girl with the force of an earthquake.

Last time Lexa said those words, it was at their first meeting, in a bar, in the obscurity of a crowd. They had been intoxicated by alcohol, blinded by bright lights and painful memories, and both were falling apart under the weight.

Now, Lexa’s words are crystal clear and cut through Clarke’s mind like a sharpened knife, and everything is falling back together, like pieces of a puzzle lost in time, only to be rescued at the perfect moment.

Clarke’s face turns red. The meaning behind those words is striking.

Lexa just went flying. She just climbed above everything, saw the world from a bird’s perspective, brushed the universe’s hand, survived the fall and yet, Clarke is the most beautiful thing in the world to her. She’s the only thing, person, worth saying ‘you’re beautiful’ to.

“Come on, lovebirds, we still have the rest of the day to get Clarke’s party started!” Octavia yells.

“O, leave them alone.” Jasper says. “They grow up so fast!”

“Which is why we should not leave them alone. They’d be able to have sex while free falling, and die.”

Bellamy ignores everyone. He might have jumped from above a few minutes ago too, he now has his face glued to his smartphone, sending a reassuring message to a worried Echo.

They go back to the main building, adrenaline slowly being regulated by their body. Clarke’s hand never leaves Lexa’s. The birthday girl is vibrating with emotions. She glances at Lexa and her heart bursts.

Lexa looks back at Clarke and almost whimpers at the realization that, no, the jump from the edge the sky still couldn't beat what she feels for the blonde woman.

And if that can't top her feelings, than Lexa is seriously considering the option that nothing ever will. She sighs at the relief that, after more then two years, she's ready to move on.

She’s already been moving on.

They make their way to the small living room the school has to look at Bellamy’s video. Lexa almost destroys the poor disk when she sees Bellamy comes back proudly with it, malicious grin on his face.

Clarke stops her with puppy eyes, and Lexa is undeniably weak.

They watch it and laughs quickly fill the room. They're sitting on a large smooth couch in which they almost burry themselves. Lexa’s terrified face slowly transforms to one of wonder and awe. Clarke’s serious face slowly morphs to one of silliness.

Clarke jumped at the same time as Bellamy. The blonde woman controlled everything, and they were head first, completely perpendicular with the horizontal axis. The sight is frightening.

While Lexa awkwardly wondered what to do with her uncross arms, Clarke was making fun of her from above. The blonde woman made random faces at the camera.

She made the ‘rock and roll’ gesture.

She mimed a bomb exploding with her hands.

She pretended to be Supergirl and moved one arm forward, taking the pose.

She pretended to be a bird, and waved her arms like one, making random noises with her voice that even the wind couldn’t cover.

She pretended to be a singer and rocked her head in the wind, an invisible micro at her hand.

She pretended to use Lexa’s head at a table and mimed the act of drinking coffee.

Lexa rolls her eyes at nearly all the poses except one, the last one, where Clarke formed a heart with her finger, the most radiant smile on her face.

The video ends with Bellamy filming them from the ground as they make their descent, Lexa trying to position herself like she was taught to.

The brunette failed, and both girls fell in the mud, laughing. Clarke’s parachute got caught in Lexa’s face, wrapping it like a tight mask and pulling the poor woman back on the ground once again.

The camera turned briefly to show Octavia and Jasper laughing uncontrollably at the sight.

“Thank you.” Lexa says as she faces to the woman she is cuddling with.

Thank you for allowing me this part of you, for this unique experience.

Thank you, for making me realizes that you did fall from the sky to rescue me.

Thank you for making me fall from 4300 meters high.

Thank you for making me fall in love with you.

Of course, Lexa does not voice any of these thoughts out loud.

***

Raven comes back home late that night, a notebook full of words. She’s exhausted, and in a mood for pizza, but she accomplished everything she wanted to do today. It has been her fourth “Friday expedition”, as she likes to call them, and she’s glad to confirm the pattern has not changed. She feels bad for missing Clarke’s birthday, but she had had no choice. She’s pretty confident that whatever she wrote in the notebook today would be enough for the rest of her plans.

She walks to her room, making sure to not disturb the house.

It is completely silent.

She frowns. There was supposed to be a party for Clarke’s birthday, but she assumes it has been moved someone else. She received a text message today from Octavia, informing her that she would be at Lincoln’s tonight. She doesn’t expect Clarke to be home anytime soon either, seeing as she was probably up celebrating somewhere.

She puts a frozen pizza in the oven and disappears in her room to change. When she emerges, she’s talking to someone on her phone.

“Bellamy? Are you busy?”

She listens to the answer. Apparently Clarke’s party is still going on.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. I need your help with something tomorrow morning so you better wake up early.”

She waits again as Bellamy asks what she needs his help for.

“Duh, helping me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time since the fire: 2 years and 4 months. 
> 
> Time since their meeting: 7 months.
> 
> Next chapter: "Wasted on life, part 1" in which many things happen. (sorry, I don't know any other way to sum it up)
> 
> AN: So, on a scale from 1 to "lexa bowing to clarke" HOW WEAK ARE YOU FOR THE 100? I am so dead, have you seen my spirit floating somewhere because I can't find it and I need it back for Thursday!
> 
> AN2: The skydiving experience is 99% real, the 1% being I'm obviously not Lexa, and my instructor wasn't Clarke. If you get the chance to do that jump, it's amazing :)


	11. Wasted on life, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many things happen. Small M rated part somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make it one chapter but it was over 20K and it was a pain for consistency.

**Wasted on life, part 1**

Clarke looks at the ceiling. She’s buried under blankets, messy hair falling on her face, partially blocking her view. She’s one year older. It doesn’t change much, really. She hasn’t suddenly grown wiser or radically changed her appearance just because midnight rang. She’s not suddenly able to give life changing advices to her friends or, even worse, actually give them useful advices, period.

She really doesn’t feel any different other than a little scared right now, because there’s a tiny spider right above her, and she fears it might start a slow descent toward her face. She already doubts that having such a creature falling on her would be pleasurable experience.

It might be a little overreacting, but she hates spiders with a passion. She thinks they’re vile creatures that should be exterminated from the planet, but she also strongly dislikes any kind of bugs. She doesn’t have to like the ugly insect to admit it’s still useful to the whole food chain.

However, she still would rather fight in a war against well trained warriors than have a spider climb on her. Its little web is shining at the daylight, and she considers destroying the entire house. She wouldn’t, because it isn’t even her house, but still. That sadistic plan is the only thing on her mind right now.

That’s a lie.

She feels a little intimidated by the presence of the insect, but that’s not it. There’s something else incrusted in her soul and bones. Her body aches in the subtle delicious way that reminds her of the lustful previous night.

The much unexpected, but much appreciated, lustful previous night.

Her eyes automatically settle on the sleeping figure by her side. She hates to compare such a dazzling human being to a repulsive beast, but she finds some similarities between them.

She fears Lexa. Not really Lexa herself, but she fears the hold the other woman has on her. It is not a violent, primal fear like the one she has whenever she thinks about the spider, except it is present, and too important to be ignored. She’s anticipating the overwhelming feelings that keep growing restlessly in her heart. She’d like to believe they will stop amplifying, but she knows they won’t, and it frightens her.

Clarke’s trapped in Lexa’s web, and she’s sure the other girl has no idea she even traced a web in the first place. The blonde girl walked willingly straight toward the ambuscade, probably assuming she would be able to escape it when the right time would come. She had been terribly wrong since the very beginning. There was no escape, and there had never been one.

From one side, everything that has been happening between them is one big mess that none of them could ever have predicted.

From another side, every single one of their interactions has been scheduled according to a road that probably has always been there for them to follow, but that both were too blind to see.

Clarke would really like to say she has great eyesight, but empirical facts are all piling up against her.

They both had been so focused on what they were not, and so concentrated on how to avoid a relationship, that they neglected to realize the destination of the road they have been travelling on.

And now it was too late to turn back, their destination having been reached.

Clarke has never been so thankful for unknowingly taking the wrong road, because that path feels so damn right today.

Lexa feels eyes on her, but still pretends to remain asleep, letting her brain slowly catching up with the latest events. She needs those five minutes of reflection to avoid the panic that she foresees.

She doesn’t want to panic. She doesn’t want to make Clarke have the wrong idea about her thoughts. She doesn’t regret the turn of the events, she just doesn’t know how to process it.

It is one thing to acknowledge she has been developing profound feelings for the blonde, but it is entirely another thing to _feel_ their breadth.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” a hoarse voice interrupts her.

Clarke’s eyes have stopped staring at the wall above them, and have turned to dig into Lexa’s soul.

“I know. You always know.” Lexa murmurs in the stillness of the room.

Clarke always knows what Lexa thinks, just like Lexa always sees through Clarke’s mind.

“Only because you allow me to know you.” Clarke answers, and Lexa silently agrees.

“Do you regret?” The blonde asks.

The words are barely audible, like saying them will make the awaited answer the wrong one.

Clarke is terrified, because a tiny part of Lexa’s thoughts is still blocked from access, and it’s that part that holds the most important secrets. It’s the part that makes what they are everything, or nothing at all.

Clarke is also nervous because even during their first moments together, when they had translated unspoken words into meaningless sex, that question had not been asked. That question was not needed.

The fact that it is needed today means that the two of them are in something entirely different.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” Lexa smiles gently.

“So you don’t?”

Clarke wants to make sure she’s not getting the wrong message, because what they did was different from all those first moments they spent before, and the blonde really wishes they can do it again.

“I don’t. I will never regret anything.”

Clarke reads the truth and sighs in relief. She needs to get used now to the slow pace of their relationship, but also to the subtle changes, the subtle steps forward, without the five steps backward.

“Lexa?”

Clarke whispers just as Lexa’s eyes close again.

“Clarke? I promise, I don’t regret anything.”

Lexa makes promises again, and she’s convinced it’s all she wants to do for the rest of her life, promise Clarke that they belong together.

“It’s not that,” Clarke answers. “It’s just, will you kill the spider?”

Lexa’s eyes shoot open as she also groans in torture when she notices it.

She hates spiders. She despises them with her entire being.

She gets up anyway.

If Clarke doesn’t like spiders, Lexa will wipe them out of the planet, one by one.

***

_“We should stop.”_

_Lexa doesn’t even know why she pronounced these words, but she shuts her mouth as soon as she hears her own voice. She stops moving, hard breath mixing with Clarke’s light exhalation, the proximity between them reduced to barely a few centimeters._

_They have been kissing since they both stumbled in Lexa’s bedroom after a celebration dinner at Clarke’s favorite restaurant. The party ended earlier after Bellamy called it a night with a call from Echo._

_Lexa’s lower back is currently pressed against the hard side of her own desk, as Clarke’s body is cheating any notion of distance._

_“We should.” Clarke smirks as she grabs Lexa’s hand. “We should move instead.”_

_Without warning, Lexa’s body is pressed over Clarke’s as the blonde lies on the perfectly made bed._

_The brunette’s lips glide along the length of the soft offered neck, and she smells the faint scent of Clarke’s soap still lingering amongst the light sweat._

_They should stop. They don’t want to stop. They won’t stop._

_Anya would not come home tonight, Lexa knew._

_She sucks at Clarke’s pulse point, eliciting a sharp gasp from the birthday girl that echoes in the empty apartment. It surprises Lexa, whose appearing smile tickles the sensitive skin._

_Clarke’s left hand is steadily resting on the mattress while her right one is wrapped around Lexa’s shoulder, encouraging the woman to never stop. The silent demand is answered positively, and Clarke’s free fingers grasp the sheet in a sudden motion._

_Their lips meet again, and fit perfectly, as if there was no alternative ending possible for them._

_Clarke lightly bites Lexa’s bottom lip, and soon enough, their tongues are battling for dominance, crashing together in a mix of passion, saliva being exchanged shamelessly. Clarke’s taste is subtle, sweet, and Lexa feels her senses reacting at the gustative addition to the vanilla perfume she smelled a few seconds earlier._

_They open their mouths, never fully letting go of each other as they fill their lungs with oxygen when they reach their limit. Lexa’s eyes are closed, but the girl can still feel Clarke’s irises on her, tracing lines on her face wherever the sky is directed to._

_Lexa shivers as hands stroke her shoulder blades, descending all the way down until they secure their hold around her waist. Fingers brush against bare skin secretly hidden under her shirt, and the light touch is enough to fire every single one of her body’s nerves._

_She’s being pulled closer and closer and closer, until their bodies are fully pressed together, melting in one another as moans are shared between their sealed mouths._

_Clarke’s back is being pushed against the mattress in urgency, and she answers by furtively slipping her leg, applying a slight pressure right where Lexa feels the need grow. Clarke is rewarded by the trembling groans she swallows in her own throat._

_The blonde woman abruptly sits up, using their position to turn them around, and soon enough, she’s the one hovering on top of another body as a loud gasp escapes Lexa’s mouth. She straddles the brunette and moves to kiss her again._

_Clarke thinks Lexa’s taste is heavenly good, and she’s sure she will never get enough of her._

_The sounds they make are driving the both of them crazy, and everything feels amplified by the absence of space between them. Their lips slowly separate, but only for Lexa to bury her head in Clarke’s shoulder, muffling an imperceptible beg._

_Clarke stares down at the flustered woman as eyes meet and silent messages are sent. She lets her fingers dig under Lexa’s shirt, caressing her lover’s toned stomach. She raises the shirt, only a few inches, and takes every exposed inch of her skin in her mouth._

_Clarke feels her own desire bursting, and she quietly pleads Lexa to let her remove useless clothes that forbid her full access to whatever it is they’re doing. She wants nothing else than slide her hand just a little higher, but she controls her impulses, and waits for an answer._

_“Do you need verbal confirmation this time too?” Lexa’s amused voice asks, and Clarke’s sudden laugh makes the room spins in a carefree spiral._

_“Yes. It’s different now, isn’t it?”_

_Lexa nods. It’s different, but it doesn’t scare her. Not much._

_“You won’t regret it tomorrow?” Clarke whispers._

_“I won’t.”_

_“So, do I have verb-“Clarke starts, joking, only to interrupt herself._

_Lexa pushes herself up on her elbows, and steals Clarke’s breath away by aggressively getting rid of her shirt. It gets lost in the corner of the room, and is quickly forgotten._

_Clarke’s blue eyes turn several shades darker as she takes in the sight. She’s painfully aroused by how gorgeous Lexa is. She doesn’t waste one more second as her mouth captures Lexa’s once again, harder than before._

_She quickly moves her lips down, tracing a labyrinth of unseen lines on the tanned skin, getting lost in the sensation of the burning body against hers. She tastes the thin layer of salted sweat and absorbs the sight of Lexa’s struggle to remain in control of her inhibitions. She drops tiny kisses on Lexa’s shoulders._

_Clarke’s respiration fastens as Lexa’s back arches when the blonde discovers sensitive places for the first time. She hesitates a millisecond before reaching for Lexa’s bra and removing it. She bows her head to savor Lexa’s breasts for the first time as the other girl whimpers underneath._

_“Clarke.” She difficultly murmurs._

_Clarke could die hearing her name being whispered this way. She never wants to stop, at all cost. Her whole body is a comet rushing for the imminent crash._

_The blonde moves her hands everywhere, and it feels like time is running out. She fears she will never have enough time to appreciate fully the piece of art she’s facing._

_Lexa truly puts all painting and sculptures to shame, as dark lines cover her back. It is the first time Clarke notices those tattoos, and she is stunned by the feeling of power she is transpierced by. She doesn’t recognize a specific pattern, and the mystery of it all makes her even more excited to the possibilities of learning more about the woman._

_“You’re perfect.”_

_“And you still have your shirt on.”_

_“Your eyesight is perfect.”_

_Lexa rolls her eyes at the out of context words, but it is sufficient to make Clarke take off her shirt as well. Green eyes sparkle and fill with lust, the momentary light atmosphere gone as soon as it appeared._

_“And you say I’m the perfect one?” Lexa mumbles, eyes roaming on the silhouette she’s being offered._

_She presses her hands to Clarke’s back, and both mutters quiet impatient words as their chests come together._

_She paints a mural on Lexa’s body, retracing each line, each stroke, each corner, with touches and light kisses. It takes an eternity, and it still isn’t enough for Clarke to feel satisfied._

_She needs more. She needs to see more. She needs to induce more. She craves that voice screaming in ecstasy, because it has been way too long since the last time, and it is a sound she does not ever want to erase from her memory._

_She rocks her leg against Lexa’s center, and both sighs loudly at the slight satisfaction of their needs._

_Lexa’s jean feels too tight around her legs, and she knows her underwear is soaked with liquid arousal. By the way Clarke’s eyes are blurred with desire, and the way her husky pants gain speed exponentially, Lexa knows she’s not the only one in this situation._

_“Lexa?”_

_Clarke doesn’t receive a verbal answer this time._

_Lexa’s hands find their way to Clarke’s waistband, and reach for the button, popping it open in a fluid motion. Before the blonde even has the time to react, Lexa’s fingers are already feeling the moisture between her legs, touching her where she needs it the most._

_“Fuck!” Clarke cries._

_Clarke has been so concentrated on not rushing things that she never realized how close she is._

_She shuts her eyes close, controlling the urging feeling taking over her body, and frees Lexa from the remaining clothes they both wear._

_“Stop,” she whispers as she leans near Lexa’s ear. “It’s about you right now.”_

_She doesn’t waste one more moment and moves her hand between Lexa’s thighs, one hand exploring the wetness eagerly, the other one supporting Lexa’s lower back, pushing their limbs forward together. Clarke feels Lexa’s hips reacting to the touch as they automatically roll sensually against hers, causing the friction to become almost unbearable._

_Lexa’s hand has left Clarke’s intimacy, but the blonde asked for it. Clarke feels short nails scratching her back in the most delirious way, while another hand is desperately clinging at wrinkled sheets._

_Clarke’s rushed breaths are surrounded by Lexa’s, and together, their harmony brings peace in the room. Their eyes struggle to focus on each other._

_Lexa forgets any meaning of the word ‘pride’ when she finally senses Clarke’s fingers circling the small bundles of nerves. She hides her face in the blonde’s neck, devouring it, causing her victim to fall further onto her._

_“Please…”_

_The beg is deafening, and Clarke stops teasing her, slipping two fingers inside, causing their hips to bump violently together. Lexa’s muffled moan echoes in the room, as her face crumbles under the weight of pleasure when Clarke increases the speed, bringing her closer to the edge._

_With each movement they make, Clarke pushing in and out, always harder, faster, deeper, closer, Lexa feels herself losing control of her body._

_Her lips do not longer taste Clarke’s skin, as the woman above her has moved down to take her breasts in a delicious way, sending waves of thrills through their veins._

_Lexa doesn’t want to take control this time. She wants to feel. She wants to reach the stars without getting burnt. She wants to ultimately prove to herself that she’s fully ready for this, unafraid, invincible, and so fully in love that she’s willing to be crushed by it._

_She recognizes Clarke’s thumb stroking her clit and her pleasure rockets past the atmosphere. Her breathing increases incredibly fast, and she curses at the explosion she’s experiencing._

_She tries to keep the bottled blast inside, but she gives up when a third finger enters her and her fight comes to an end._

_For the first time, she comes with Clarke’s name echoing on the walls of her bedroom._

_Lexa feels that she never truly did justice to Clarke’s name until now._

_Clarke struggles to not reach her climax when she feels Lexa’s walls tightening around her fingers and juices soaking them._

_When her name is being screamed loudly multiple times, she knows she will never hear anything as earth shattering as that for the rest of her life._

_The other girl is shaking, and parted lips chant the remaining of the wave away._

_Clarke brings her lips to Lexa’s, softly, as if she was trying to convey everything. She makes a promise to share everything with her, to never let her go._

_She promises to never let her fall without being ready to catch her._

_She promises to keep her safe against her own demons._

_She seals those promises with a soft embrace, sweat mixing together as they both catch their breath. She buries her head in Lexa’s hair and inhales deeply as she feels their heartbeats slowly decreasing to unthreatening levels._

_Clarke’s smirk returns when Lexa falls back on Earth._

_It disappears quickly as her body is being slammed on the mattress, Lexa’s hungry eyes promising her of the sweetest revenge._

***

“Clarke and I are together.” Lexa announces as Anya steps in their apartment.

Clarke left her place merely an hour ago, and Lexa already misses her. She copes by talking about her. The fact that she needs to tell Anya about the implicit status of their relationship gives her a good excuse.

It’s implicit because neither actually said the word ‘girlfriend’, but it is useless to deny they were ever less than that.

Anya blinks once, twice, and exchanges a look with her roommate. She can’t say she’s surprised by the news. Honestly she’s more surprised about that fact that Lexa is telling her explicitly than anything else. And really, she can’t believe Lexa even thinks that she never knew.

“That’s great, Lex,” she smiles genuinely.

Lexa’s steady eyes rest on Anya’s figure for a few seconds. Her lips form a thin line and her head remains perfectly aligned with her spine. She’s studying the other woman with eagle eyes, analyzing the words, the tone, and even the smile she received a few seconds ago.

“You knew it already.” It is a statement, not a question.

“Seriously, it wasn’t that hard to guess,” Anya rolls her eyes. “You’ve been coming home like a beaten raccoon for the past weeks.”

“Isn’t it ‘puppy’ and not raccoon?”

Lexa doesn’t like being compared to any animal, but she still, she’d rather it be a cute dog than a raccoon. Dogs are cute. For all she knows, raccoons are terrifying little monsters that keep digging in people’s trash.

“You’ve had dark lines under your eyes for weeks because you keep trading sleep for talks with that Clarke girl,” Anya explains. “The beaten part is because you look like someone punched you in the guts whenever you have to be apart from her. You’re a beaten raccoon, don’t even deny it.”

“I am no animal.”

Anya thinks about the hundred types of creatures Lexa could be associated with, starting by any stubborn baby animal, but doesn’t discloser her thoughts. She’s too young to die.

“I have pictures,” she reveals instead.

“You don’t.”

An evil smirk appears on Anya’s face, who doesn’t hesitate to unlock her phone and start searching through her pictures files. It takes less than minute before she throws it shamelessly at Lexa.

A blurry image of Lexa walking in the apartment, head down, eyes half closed, tired smile, is displayed. From the angle, Lexa looks like a zombie, big dark circles around her eyes, and mouth slightly open. She frankly seems exhausted, and if Lexa didn’t know better, she’d think she looked sick. In the picture, she’s even holding a little piece of food, probably the remaining of cake, in her hand, and it looks like the human personalization of a raccoon that just came back from a food hunt.

She can’t refute Anya’s words, no matter how much she wants to.

“Told you!” Anya claims excitedly at Lexa’s mortified silence.

Lexa painfully concedes victory and waits for Anya to put her phone away before asking:

“So, you’re okay with this?”

 If Anya isn’t okay with this, Lexa thinks, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Anya is her best friend and sister from another mother. Her opinion matters more than Lexa will ever admit. She needs Anya in her life. She doesn’t want to ever have to choose between her and someone else.

“You being a raccoon? I wish you’d have told me sooner.”

“Anya.”

“Fine, grumpy. Look, you make your own decisions. Nothing I say will change that.” Anya says softly. “You never listened to me anyway, don’t pretend like this is different. You were always a step ahead of me.”

“You used to think Costia was an alien sent to abduct me.”

“You said it yourself first, I was supporting you because that’s what friends do.”

Lexa snorts, much to her embarrassment. She did say that. It wasn’t technically her fault, she just had a hard time believing someone as wonderful as Costia would even glance at her.

“I’m serious, Lexa,” Anya continues. “You’re happy. You don’t need me to tell you what to do. Now let me grab something to eat before you go on about how great Clarke is like a twelve years old having her first crush.”

Lexa’s cheeks turn a slight shade of pink at the words. She doesn’t do that… anymore.

Anya walks to the kitchen and takes the first thing she sees in the fridge that doesn’t look poisonous. It’s the remaining of Thai food Lexa brought back from last night’s restaurant, and Anya devours it while watching her roommate with curious eyes. Something feels wrong. Anya’s sixth sense has always been excellent when it comes to Lexa. 

“What is it?” She asks after a moment of deep silent.

“I’m scared.”

Lexa’s answer comes without warning, fast, unexpected, and without a single drop of hesitation. It’s something so unusual that Anya would have choked, had she still be eating. Lexa never, written in capital bold italic letters highlighted in flashy yellow and surrounded by lighted up arrows, never admitted she was scared.

Except that one time, and Anya remembered exactly whom it concerned.

“Why?”

She doesn’t want to assume Lexa’s answer, but she feels it coming like a bullet sent from a sniper sent by the devil.

“Because we are no long pretending. There’s an ‘us’ now. It’s official.”

 _And you remember what happened last time I was part of an ‘us.’_ The unspoken words hang between them.

“Nia’s fight was with Costia.” Anya reminds her somberly. “She was angry at Costia, and you got involved. Nia was never against you. You were a passive witness.”

Lexa knows Anya is right, but all those what if’s are flying around her head like persistent insects, and she can’t get rid of them.

“You were never the target. She’s not harassing you as much anymore.”

There’s a secret meaning behind those words, and Lexa knows her roommate knows something. She reaches for her phone and Anya’s eyes follow. Lexa immediately realizes what Anya knows. She sighs, and doesn’t mention it. Anya knows, whatever Lexa says, it’s useless.

“I’m not scared about me,” Lexa frowns. “I’m worried about Clarke. I don’t care whether or not Nia comes after me, it’s Clarke I’m concerned for. What if that simple altercation at the bar was enough for Nia to…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence because the option would destroy her from the inside. She barely survived the first nuclear bomb, she doesn’t want to think about what the second one would do to her. The possibilities are almost inexistent, but they are there, and Lexa is not foolish enough to dismiss them.

Anya mentally records those words, for they are the closest she’ll ever hear Lexa says she loves Clarke. She has always thought Lexa’s speech about weakness was ridiculous, and today is no exception.

“Are you ready to be fully with Clarke?”

Lexa nods. There’s no doubt in her mind that this is what she wants.

“We are, fully together.” Lexa clarifies, and Anya looks at her like a proud mother.

“Then –“

Anya is interrupted by her phone buzzing loudly in her pocket. 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting forever, that girl is really the slowest on Earth.” She sighs loudly as she looks at the long text message that’s lighting up her phone.

Lexa waits for an explanation, and when she realizes she won’t get one, clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Anya mumbles, “I’ve been lying to you, please don’t hate me.”

“What?”

“I’ve sorted of been talking to Clarke’s friend? Raven? We kind of figured out this situation could happen.”

Before Lexa can open her mouth and ask about this nonsense, Anya is grabbing Lexa’s shoulder, pushing her toward the door of their apartment.

“The little speech you just did about how you love Clarke so much and just want to protect her from Nia? That one. Raven anticipated it and stalked me to make sure we had a back-up plan.”

Lexa’s cheeks turn a little pink at the mention, the affirmation, that she loves Clarke. She won’t deny it, but it embarrasses her that her roommate can say it out loud whereas she can’t. She doesn’t even encode the second part of her friend’s words.

“We need to go at Clarke’s,” Anya says. “Raven’s waiting for us. And I’m sure Clarke knows about the situation by now. I’ll explain on our way, come on.”

“I’m not moving until you tell me what is happening.”

“Stop being such a child and move!”

Anya pushes her friend outside harshly and locks the door. She’s the only person in the world who can do such thing and still live.

 “I told Raven about Nia. She asked about it, and we agreed that we could do something if you ever had doubts about Nia being totally out of your life. I know you Lex, you’ve always been blaming yourself for not being able to punish her for what she did to Cos.”

“What happened to Costia was terrible. I won’t deny it. But as hard as it was, I’ve moved on. I’ve managed to live with the injustice that we had no proof to convict her. I’ve managed to deal with the ambiguity surrounding her death, the agony of not truly knowing if she did it on purpose or not. You haven’t.”

“Raven’s trying to find proof. She wants to put Nia away for good by finding anything that could relate her to Costia’s brother’s fire accident. She wants to find anything that could relate her to bullying Costia, because encouraging someone to die is punishable by law. It’s a long shot, the chances are slim, but she has help.  She just texted me the progress, and asked that we meet her at Clarke’s.”

Lexa pouts all the way to Clarke’s house, confirming Anya’s theory that she acts like a child, but despite her confusion, she still manages to understand the general lines of the situation.

They’re going after Nia.

***

They arrive at Clarke’s apartment not long after, and hear multiple voices speaking loudly. Raven’s voice is the clearest, and it sounds like she’s confronting Clarke with something. Clarke’s voice screams something, and the aggressiveness blows their eardrums, even with a closed door between them and the situation.

Anya doesn’t bother knocking and rushes inside instead. The door slams into Clarke’s face just as the blonde was about to open it. The victim moans in pain and Lexa’s disciplined behavior shatters at the sight of a bloody nose.

“Shit,” Anya curses.

Lexa‘s eyes silently send knives toward her friend’s direction, but her hand quickly cups Clarke’s cheeks. She examines the injury and sighs in relief, oblivious to the mocking stares she’s getting from the others.

“Nothing’s broken, but you should clean that and put ice for a few minutes. Anya, apologize.” She orders.

Anya’s eyes widen in disbelief at such words.

“Since when do you give me orders?”

“Since you almost killed my dog when we were ten because you didn’t listen to me when I said not to play with knives in the kitchen.”

“I’m sorry?” She says hesitantly to Clarke, but corrects herself at the protective sight Lexa is throwing her. “I mean, I apologize for hurting you, ô precious child. I didn’t know how important you were, my mistake. I couldn’t see through that door, I’m sorry my eyes are so poorly adapted to this reality.”

Raven snorts, and Lexa almost, almost, considers hurting her friend.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke grins, “I’ll survive. But it’s nice to know I’ve got a personal doctor and bodyguard at my service.”

Lexa pushes the girl’s shoulder in response.

“What was happening in here?” Anya asks. “It sounded like someone was being murdered.”

“You’re right, I was about to murder Raven,” Clarke’s voice echoes from the bathroom. “She sent Bellamy to a stupid mission.”

Lexa stands in the living room. Raven’s sitting on the couch, a laptop open on her knees. She’s focusing on the screen and whispers inaudible things through a miniature microphone attached to her shirt’s collar. Monty is patiently sitting next to her, his focus on the screen as well. Octavia paces in the middle of the room as Jasper tries to calm her. He doesn’t seem close to succeeding any time soon.

Anya waves at Raven, which Lexa frowns at. She’s still unsure how to react to the fact that these two have seen each other behind her back. Nothing good could come from that.

She anxiously waits for any explanation, but Raven only lifts a finger, asking them to not speak until she is finished with what she’s doing. They wait, and Clarke suddenly returns by Lexa’s side, clasping their hands together. Octavia stops pacing for a second to smile fondly at them.

The wait takes forever, but finally, Raven sighs and speaks.

“Bellamy’s good. He found it.”

“Found what?” Lexa asks.

“Nia’s computer,” Clarke mumbles. “Raven sent him to freaking Nia’s house to steal her computer.”

“Before you lose your shit, Lexa, you should know that I’m very good at mechanics. I’ve been planning this for two months, and my plan is perfect. Bellamy will not be interrupted by anyone, because at this time, Nia’s doing some grocery shopping, and she won’t be done for another solid two hours. Then, she’ll come back, and nothing will be out of place, because, Clarke, we’re not stealing the laptop, we’re simply adding a program to it.”

Lexa glances at Raven’s laptop and gasps. She recognizes Bellamy fiddling with a computer in what appears to be Nia’s living room. The screen is separated in five other sections, which display other rooms of the house, as well as the exterior lawn. The cameras are high quality, and the images are perfectly clear. Bellamy wears a microphone as well, to communicate with Raven.

“How?” Lexa’s commanding voice demands an explanation.

“I thought Anya told you?”

“I know better than to disclose all the details. I value my life more than that.” Anya points out.

“Traitor,” Raven accuses. “I met with Anya two months ago. We talked, and I got pissed at Nia for not getting what she deserved. I began following her and noting her schedule. It was easy, that girl doesn’t change much of it, so after a month I figured it was safe to assume the moments where she wouldn’t be at home. I had Murphy make a copy of Nia’s key. Anya backed me up while I installed cameras inside. They’re well hidden, chances of them being discovered are less than zero. I’ve been looking at her for about three weeks.”

Lexa is surprised at Murphy’s mention, but at the same time, she’s always thought there was something suspicious with him. Maybe his secret skills consisted in illegal hobbies.

“Creep. If Bellamy is hurt in the process, I will not forgive you.” Octavia says.

“I‘m simply doing this because I don’t want her to come and bite Clarke and Lexa’s asses! You know I’m right about that, O.” Raven answered. “I’m sure someone as detailed as her must have kept information from whatever she did to Costia’s brother. The best place to start is her laptop. If we can find evidence, we simply have to send them anonymously to the police, and ta-dam, she’s gone! It sounds crazy, but we can’t do anything else. I know you hate to admit it, Lexa, but you won’t stop being worried unless we put that woman away for good. I sent Bellamy because he knows how to not leave traces in a house. He’s been escaping one night stands since forever.”

“Seriously? That’s your excuse for sending him there?” Clarke shakes her head. “He could be caught and go to jail! He could be a criminal all because of your stupid plan.”

“Kinda hate to break it to you, but we could all be criminals by complicity.” Jasper murmurs. “But I think it’s for a good cause.”

Raven ignores the words and answers Bellamy’s questions for a moment while Lexa digests the information.

“Anya made me promise I’d stop if I didn’t find anything on her laptop. It’s safe. The program Bellamy is currently installing won’t leave a trace, and can’t be detected. It can be uploaded even if her computer’s locked. It will even be deleted automatically in 72 hours. Monty made sure of it. He knows how to navigate in her laptop from mine once it’s done.” Raven explains.  

Lexa can’t process the information the way she’d want to. She’d like to believe that this is a genius plan and that Nia will finally repay for what she’s done, but reality is far from that perfect scenario. She thinks about the complications that could happen, and only one comes to her mind: Clarke. Clarke could get hurt in the process, if Nia ever discovered them. It is a risk she doesn’t want to take.

 “No,” Lexa pronounces carefully, “you have to stop. This is not something that can be done that easily. If she catches you-“

“Which she won’t,” Raven interrupts.

“If she catches you, she’ll destroy you. You think you know her, but you don’t. Her computer probably has no traces of any of the hateful emails she sent Costia, despite how many of them there were. And if there are traces, you won’t be able to send them to the police, because they look innocent. She probably updated her protection, to make sure amateur hackers like you could not get to her.”

“Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am for the vote of confidence?”

Clarke feels like she’s watching a tennis game, ball being thrown from one person to another, rackets swinging violently from both sides. She doesn’t want to force Lexa, but she also wants the other girl to be free. Free from the past, from her ghosts, from her guilt. If it means risking being criminal, then so be it. She just wished Raven had told her about it before sending Bellamy alone in enemy territory.

She also has her share of ‘one night stands escapes’, she could have gone instead.

“Blood must have blood, you said it yourself, whatever that meant,” Raven rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t see your face when you said that, but I saw it and you were pretty damn serious. Admit that this is what you want already. It’s too late anyway, Bellamy’s done. He’s coming back here and we’ll start the best part.”

Even Clarke’s hand in her own can’t calm Lexa’s mind from running to the imminent disaster. A tiny part of her hopes that this will give results, but the rest of her soul yells that this is simply setting a time bomb for later.

Raven makes sure Bellamy leaves the house before turning the cameras off. She hands her computer to Monty, stating it’s his turn to show off now.

Monty smiles, but his eyes are dead serious. He agreed to this without really knowing the why’s and now, he feels like he’s doing it against Lexa’s consent, which is frankly not a good thing, according to the storm present in those green eyes.

“Lexa,” Clarke says, “I trust Raven. I trust Monty. I trust Bellamy. They can pull this off. I don’t necessary agree with that plan, but it’s done already. It’s a try.”

“It’s a suicide mission.” Lexa’s eyes are full of lighting threatening to crash on the rest of the group, including Anya.

“You don’t know unless we try. Nia won’t have me.” Clarke insists.

“She wasn’t supposed to have anyone.”

The sentence isn’t pronounced with sorrow or deathly guilt anymore, but simply with a trace of melancholia.

It is a transformation that Lexa welcomes warmly.

They remain silent after that short conversation. Lexa isn’t mad at Clarke for trying, she even appreciates the gesture. She simply wants to avoid any kind of plan that involves Nia remembering Clarke’s existence.

The group waits, heaviness amongst them, for Bellamy’s return.

Anya slowly moves next to Lexa, shielding her from any potential threats. She just got her friend back, she’s not about to let her disappear again.  Before she gets too close, however, she notices her roommate imperceptibly leaning in Clarke’s body. It might have been only half a millimeter closer, but still, Anya is left speechless.

She wonders when Clarke surpassed her as Lexa’s anchor.

Bellamy rushes through the door a few minutes later, holding a small USB flash drive. He’s sweating, like he just ran a marathon, but his eyes shine at his accomplishment.

“Here, work your magic, Monty.” He says after he receives a quick congrats from Raven. “I almost got caught by whoever lives next door, but I managed to slip out.”

He gives the flash drive and grabs a bottle of water, only to have it snatched violently from his hands. He shuts his eyes as glacial water splashes on his head.

“Really, Bell?” Clarke angrily reprimands. “Do you know what it is to have your roommate walk into your room, announcing that your best friend might have gone to a suicide mission, do you?”

“I’m your best friend.”

“Not now, Raven, you already got your turn!” Clarke shoots words like unstoppable bullets. “What the hell is wrong with you? What if the police had caught you? What if Nia had caught you? Do you have any idea what this woman is capable of?”

Bellamy doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have any idea. Raven asked for his help, and he could never refuse his friends anything. He values loyalty before anything else. He was told it was important to Clarke as well, and he just accepted the mission. He knows it is related to Lexa, but other than that, he was thrown into a black hole.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes hesitantly. “Raven didn’t mention how… dangerous it was.”

“Hold on, what if she catches you anyway because that plan fails and she discovers you were at her house, have you even thought about it?”

“I was careful!” Bellamy protests.

“It’s not enough! You could have broken something. You could have forgotten something there. What if that had happened, Bell? Did you even think this through? It’s illegal! It’s home invasion! You said it yourself, you almost got caught!”

“Clarke.”

Lexa’s voice is a velvet balm on Clarke’s anxiety, and the blonde woman’s behavior comes to rest within seconds. Blue meets green, and words are exchanged through an invisible vessel between them. Lexa slightly shakes her head, and Clarke nods.

Lexa only realizes then that she is able to communicate with Clarke without words, just like she had seen the blonde and Bellamy do at that party, once upon a time. Back then, she was thinking that she wouldn’t be able to share such a bond after Costia, but here she stands, proven wrong once again.

“I’m just worried,” Clarke admits. “They might have ‘stalked’ Nia, but knowing Raven, there’s a high chance she was noticed.”

“Again, thank you so much for the vote of confidence.”

“She’s right,” Anya laughs, “you’re not the most subtle person in the world.”

Raven sticks her tongue out in reply.

“Guys, check this.” Monty’s voice rises.

He’s surrounded by Octavia and Jasper on each of his sides, and they’re both frowning at whatever is displayed. He has stopped typing, visibly calculating something in his head. He’s analyzing many possibilities at the same time, his knowledge being challenged by an enigma.

“What is that?” Raven asks. “Mount Weather Security Software?”

“I’ve heard about it, I didn’t think it actually existed. It’s an urban legend, the best software worldwide,” Jasper sighs.

Lexa swallows. She has heard about it as well, through various books she’s read over the years.

“In the deep web, highly qualified programmers combine illegally many different viruses to create one huge program. It’s originally created to infiltrate government’s branches, like the FBI and CIA. It’s said that it is one of the programs used by the ‘Anonymous’ group whenever they leak something.” Jasper explains.

“Yes. It’s a virus, but used wisely, it can be recoded to secure anything on your computer. It’s impenetrable without the password,” Monty continues. “No way to bypass it, you can’t pretend to be a virus to attack it, you can’t ask another software to decrypt the password. You can’t disguise your entry. You just can’t make yourself invisible. It sees everything, and when something unusual is detected, it finds the source, and shut it down.”

Monty somehow managed to unlock Nia’s session easily. Her wallpaper is plain black, with no files in display beside the little “general” folder. There is no sign that this computer even belongs to someone. When he clicked on the folder icon, a small window asking for a password appeared, ‘Mount Weather Security Software’ written on top.

“If that isn’t suspicious already.” Octavia mumbles.

“What do you mean, shut it down? Come on, Monty, you’ve beaten worse than that.” Bellamy argues.

“It shuts it down without you noticing it. As soon as Mount Weather’s program asks for a password, it finds the source of the demand, and analyzes whether it comes from a secure one or not. Even the infiltration code Monty used can’t hide his real position.” Jasper explains.

“It already knows it’s not a local source. It’s probably scanning your files while we’re sitting there wondering what to do,” Monty explains. “It sees you before you can get through it, and make sure you’re the right person. If it judges you’re not, it crashes your hard drive through remodeling the codes. If you try to stop it, it adapts, and changes its settings to a new one. It’s sneaky, it evolves. Your anti-virus won’t detect it. I’ve heard it burned computers so bad there was smoke coming out of them. I’ve heard some even exploded, like a missile had gone through their screens.”

“Get that thing out of my computer! Do you know how many important files I have on this for school! Tons of designs and original creations that will revolutionize the world when I graduate!” Raven shrieks.

“I can’t!” Monty answers quickly. “If I close the window, it opens again. It wants me to type in a password, because I clicked on the file already. I can’t go back. I’m trying to code a different program to erase that function, but it won’t let me even type elsewhere than that little password box.”

“You’ve infiltrated the mayor’s computer to pull a prank, are you kidding me?” Octavia shakes her head. “There must be a way to at least stop it from attacking us.”

Monty types different combinations, but none of them make anything changes. The screen remains as it is, unimpressed.

“Try just turning it off and on again.”

“Bell, that’s not how it works.” Raven rolls her eyes.

Monty pulls another flash drive from his pocket and plugs it. He searches through his own files and executes one. A new empty command window appears right next to the password box. He types a few words, trying different codes, but the only message he receives in exchange tells him that none of his tries is recognized by the system. He tries different types of programming, before setting his choice on C++, as it is the only one that gives him a result, no matter how negative it is.

His eyes fly from one corner of the computer screen to the other, as if he was waiting for something to happen. He faintly hears his friends asking questions in the background, but concentrates all his efforts on making sure Raven’s computer doesn’t blow up in the future minutes.

He opens another file from his own disk, and this time, a larger terminal window opens. He writes a long algorithm and waits. Nothing happens for a minute.

The next thing he sees is a white screen with a small window flashing in its middle, all trace of his own disk erased. He doesn’t need to verify to know his hard drive is dead.

_While{ ((try <= 3 || time <= BORNE) && (password != *************))_

_Scanf(%c, password);_

_}_

_Gets(externalDrive_X);_

_Status = remove(externalDrive_X);_

“What the hell?” Octavia asks.

“I managed to make the basic conditions appear.” Monty sighs in defeat. “Basically, my hard drive is fried, and Mount Weather definitely knows we’re trying to infiltrate Nia’s laptop, as I had no choice but to make my presence fully known. I used an alias.”

Lexa’s jaw clenches. This is not going well. If Nia knows about them, she’ll attack them.

If they get attacked, then Clarke is not safe.

If Clarke is not safe, Lexa’s sanity has signed its death warrant.

“It’s okay,” Monty reassures when he notices Lexa’s posture changes. “Mount Weather knows we’re trying, Nia doesn’t. Actually, I don’t think she’ll notice it was us. Mount Weather will delete all contents of Raven’s drive if we don’t find the password within a certain time length. It will let Nia knows someone tried to infiltrate hers, but she won’t know it was us. I’ve heard the programmers who designed Mount Weather sacrificed some options to contain the size of the file. As far as I know, we have three guesses, and limited time to make them.”

“She will still know something happened.” Lexa says solemnly.

Monty stares at the screen as the short code disappears, and the same password box comes back. He types something, but the screen won’t budge.

“Can’t you just leave her computer?” Anya asks. “Doesn’t your program have an exit option?”

“Mount Weather disabled it,” Jasper sighs deeply. “If I stay connected without trying, Nia might be able to retrace it to us, and we won’t be an invisible threat anymore. She’ll get our IP address. So we have two choices, do nothing and get caught, or try, fail and say goodbye to Raven’s computer, but at least we remain unknown.”

Raven curses. She does have important files on her computer, and her only backup has not being updated for a while. Her entire life is on that drive. This is not something she wanted to happen.

“How much time do we have?” She asks through her teeth.

“Probably less than fifteen minutes,” Monty calculates, “it’s the average for this kind of software.”

“TRY SOMETHING!” Octavia urges at both Anya and Lexa.

The Blake woman also has some important plans on that computer, as hers broke a few weeks ago, and she has been using Raven’s while waiting for hers to be fixed.

Lexa’s neurons are shooting information in her brain, but nothing comes up. Costia knew Nia, Lexa never truly did, so any chances of guessing a password is out of the window.

She reaches for Raven’s computer, and still tries the first thing that comes to her mind, Costia’s birthday. If Nia was such a close friend with her, maybe it could make sense. She watches, anticipation scarred in her eyes, as the loading sign goes on forever.

The screen flashes, and the empty password box reappears.

“Two,” Bellamy whispers.

Time escapes their grasps as both Anya and Lexa sort the multiple possibilities. The sound of the clock on the wall awfully rings like a time bomb to their ears. Their anxious breaths mix with the familiar ‘ticks’, and Anya’s quick steps in the living room resonate in the entire apartment, adding to the heavy harmony.

The more time passes, the less idea comes to their mind.

“She’ll be back in an hour,” Raven informs the group.

Lexa types Costia’s full name. It’s a long shot, and nothing happens.

Lexa curses, and this time, nothing Clarke can do is enough to calm her. She damns her best friend who launched them in a mission that none was prepared for. Did Anya not know how many times Lexa had been in this situation, trying to pin something on her perpetual enemy, without ever succeeding? What had made her think this time would be different? It was foolish, and careless, and it would most likely release Damocles sword on them.

“Seriously, do you even know your enemy?” Octavia shouts furiously, only to be reprimanded by Clarke’s eyes. “Sorry, just do something. Monty?”

Monty takes the computer back and types an algorithm he learned back when he was an amateur. It’s a long shot, but it’s an old method, and chances are that Mount Weather was created after that.

The screen blinks, and a few lines appears again, this time in an unknown programming code. Two seconds later, it comes back to the flashing password box, with a ten seconds countdown. The Asian boy shakes his head in defeat.

“It’s made of layers and layers of infinite code, like a labyrinth of underground tunnels, most of them leading nowhere, only to confuse you. Destroy one, another one appears, and in a different programming language, I’m pretty sure. I’ve tried to disable to password option and already came across C, C++, java and python. The last few lines you saw before it disappears? Mount Weather’s own coding. I don’t even know what it means.”

Lexa sighs and moves to type something again when the screen flashes one more time, and turns black.

The shutdown is quiet, simple, almost unnoticeable. No fireworks explode, no bomb goes off, and no funeral march is heard. The only thing that changes is the invasion of a burned metallic and burned plastic smell.

Raven harshly takes her computer back, throwing a furious glare at the group, unsure who she should release her anger at. She wishes there was someone she could aim it at, but she knows the only responsible is not here. The responsible is doing her grocery shopping while she should not even have the right to eat.

Octavia’s eyes are housing the same storms.

“It’s dead.” Raven mumbles after trying to turn it on in three different ways.

Monty tries as well, and confirms. He opens it with little tools, and the inside is completely melted. No technician would be able to fix it.

“Looks like your computer got acid fog on it.” He says.

“Fuck! It was a special computer custom made for me.” Raven groans. “That bitch will regret it. The battle is lost, but the war isn’t.”

Lexa frowns at the ‘custom made’ commentary, but doesn’t say anything. She can clearly see how close the other woman is to hit something, and she’d rather it not be her.

Raven locks herself in deep thoughts for a few minutes, and the silence grows bigger around the defeated group. The atmosphere is made of molecules of deception and anger, but none says anything, until the sparks come back in the woman’s eyes.

Raven walks quickly to her room. Her bedroom door slams violently, only to be reopened again, minutes later.

She runs back to the living room and comes back with two laptops in her hands along with two flash drives. She gives one computer to Bellamy as well as one USB drive. The computer is an exact replica of Nia’s laptop, the one they just tried to hack. Bellamy eyes it suspiciously, fearing it might be a bomb in disguise.

The second one is Clarke’s, whose eyes widen at the sight. She fears Raven’s next move.

 “Unlock it,” she orders to her best friend, and Clarke doesn’t hesitate to obey under the pressure of Raven’s harsh tone.

The laptop screen shines bright, and Raven immediately plug a second flash drive in, typing a few commands to connect cameras until the view of Nia’s house appear on the screen again.

She turns to Bellamy with lightning bolts in her eyes and declares:

“You’re going to steal Nia’s laptop and bring it back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time since the fire: 2 years 4 months 1 day.
> 
> Time since their meeting: 7 months 1 day
> 
> Next chapter: Wasted on life, part 2, in which the story kind of conclude.
> 
> Title is inspired by the TV show "South of Nowhere", for those who might be familiar with it. Spashley trash.
> 
> "I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing" me after 304 :)


	12. Wasted on life, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many things happen, and the story concludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping this one real quick before my exam. College is trying to separate me from clexa and it's not working ha.
> 
> Small M rated part again somewhere.

**Wasted on life, part 2**

 “No.”

Lexa’s voice elevates beyond others, and, having releasing Clarke’s hand for a moment, her commanding posture inspires respect. The direct, final tone gives no place for objection, and she stands tall in front of Raven. She breathes deeply at the annoyed glance she receives, but doesn’t bend at all. She fixes the other girl for a long time, a pensive look on her face, as if she is trying to guess what Raven plans are.

“What are your intentions?” She asks, giving up on reading the mechanic’s mind.

It seems that her little power only works with Clarke’s mind.

“I am not risking anyone else without a solid plan. Your first one failed. You must learn to accept defeat.” She continues.

“It was one try.” Raven spits back. “You can’t tell me Costia gave up that easily, can you?”

Lexa struggles to keep her calm behavior, but Clarke sees right through her. The blonde girl notices the way Lexa’s jaw subtly clenches, the way her hands shakes slightly, the way her eyelids wavers.

“Yet, you’re acting under impulsivity, and it is what will cause your second lost.” Lexa pronounces slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Raven apologizes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I heard about what she did, and I got where you were coming from with the whole blood speech. I hate that she didn’t get any kind of punishment, this is beyond messed up!”

Lexa nods, but doesn’t answer. She used to spend days and nights, minutes and hours, months and years, searching for any kind of clue that could send Nia rot in jail, without any result. Clarke’s friends are probably her one and only chance to defeat the woman, no matter how risky it is.

“Sending Bellamy is not a good idea!” Octavia argues. “You said it yourself, she’ll be back in less than an hour now, that’s the amount of time it will take for him to go there.”

“Not unless you drive him there, and make sure to detour from the usual road. Bellamy, you leave the replica exactly at the same place, and don’t you even think about moving it one millimeter apart. You get a ruler or whatever, but it has to be flawless.” Raven explains.

“Bellamy, don’t you dare move.” Clarke orders.

“Look, she must not use that computer that often, there’s nothing on it. That means, we have a chance, that we can buy time, if she doesn’t use it the minute she gets home. But if she opens it, she’ll notice someone has tried to hack her. You have to leave now, go! I’ll leave my microphone on if there’s anything.”

She pushes the Blake siblings outside the apartment and yells at them to drive as fast as they can without getting caught by any police officers. She turns around, and dares anyone to speak against her.

Jasper looks frightened, but determined to help Monty make it work. Lexa and Clarke are standing next to each other again, weighting their options, as Anya steps ahead.

“What do you plan to do when they bring it back?” She asks with a serious tone.

“Try again, what do you think? Monty, you have about forty-five minutes to convince someone from the deep web to send you the Mount Weather software. Money’s not a problem. Then, we infiltrate Nia’s computer with Mount Weather.”

“So it’s like an inside job?” Jasper frowns. “Mount Weather attacking itself?”

“Exactly. If we can’t take it from an external source, we’ll try by the inside. Mount Weather might just mistake us for one of its extension, and let us in. If we have Nia’s laptop with us, we can make sure we control both sides if something goes wrong, which I’m sure it will.” She says coldly, glancing at the remaining parts of her computer.

“Shouldn’t we just send the laptop to the police at this point?” Jasper points out.

“We cannot just reach any officer and say we have a doubt of Nia bullying someone to death and setting criminal fires. The accusation is too important, and if nothing is found, we will suffer the consequences from both the police and Nia. Plus, how do we explain the fact that we have the computer at all?” Lexa interrupts.

Raven takes it as a sign to go on with the plan and urges Monty to hurry, as the boy types at the speed of light to contact someone, any available programmer from the deep web.

She sighs in relief when she receives an update from Octavia, telling her they left just in time by the back door, as Nia was making her way back to the front door. They’re on their way home, but Bellamy fears he might have rushed things too much. The replica is on place, but it might not be entirely at the same position as before.

It’s a matter of time before their stratagem is discovered.

“Nia was opening the door when he was closing his. Next time you have a brilliant plan like this, Raven, make sure we have enough time!”

They all hear Octavia’s breathless voice and exchange worried glances.

“My plan is brilliant, do you hear that?” Raven smiles nervously.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s eyes are full of nervousness, and Clarke has never seen her in so much distress, “it is not too late to stop. I can go distract Nia while Bellamy puts everything back in place.”

“Haven’t your heard Raven? She will know someone tried to open that folder no matter what. We have no choice.” Clarke tries to make Lexa understand, but it is not an easy task. “We’ll find a way. This is the option that has the most chance of success. I don’t like it more than you, but I’m with Raven now.”

Lexa’s nod is weak, and unsure. What if it’s already too late? What if Nia has been following the Blake’s car and is climbing the stairs right now? What if she sets Clarke’s apartment on fire and transforms it to a torrid volcano?

There would not be enough water in the world to stop her from burning along.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, Monty reaches a cryptic website and starts chatting with someone that goes by the alias ‘MountainManWallace’, firing questions and pressing for answers. Whoever’s on the other side acts suspiciously, demanding why the need is so urgent.

_What do you plan to use it for? I ask this question to everyone._

_Protect my computer._

_And you must have it in the next five minutes?_

_Yes._

_Will you die in the next five minutes?_

_Maybe._

Monty isn’t a fan of lying, but under the circumstance, his moral lays low.

_We didn’t create the software to spread evil._

_I won’t. I just need to take back something that belongs to m._

_Will it hurt someone in the process?_

_Someone’s already hurt._

_Explain._

They keep chatting for what seems like eternity, but despite the numerous questions, Monty receives the software quickly, just as Bellamy and Octavia walk in.

He gives the laptop to Monty, who quickly opens it. A warning message flashes in the center of the screen, informing the owner of a tentative to open the unique folder.

Monty types something to make it disappear, but a second password box appears. To make the alarm disappears indefinitely, another password is needed. He sighs. He had thought they could have sent back the computer once the message would be gone, but now, that possibility is out the window.

 He refrains himself from doing anything else.

“Raven,” he declares quietly, “your plan won’t work. The man I just chatted with informed me that each version of the software has its own serial number. Nia’s laptop won’t recognize it, and there’s a high chance Clarke’s computer ends up like yours.”

“Tell me you’re joking and that you suck at jokes?” Raven glares.

“I wish I could.”

“Basically, we do nothing, Nia gets us. We do something, she gets us. We try to do something, she gets us too?” Octavia says in disbelief. “I thought it was easy to erase traces on the internet.”

“Never,” Monty shakes his head.

“Whatever we do, we need to decide fast. Clarke?” Bellamy asks.

The blonde woman sighs. She won’t mind the loss of her computer, but if she can avoid it, she will choose that option. She hates the trap she’s in. She feels prisoner, and she’d do anything to go back to the warm safety room she was in last night.

Of course she wants to help Lexa get rid of that woman, but she feels helpless. No matter what she chooses, the result will be the same. The only difference will be the way to reach it.

 “What if we tried to open her files directly from her computer?” She asks.

“The files will most likely self-destruct,” Monty explains, “as we don’t have the password to even remove the alert window. It is the protocol for anything related to that kind of software. If I try to extract the password, Mount Weather will recognize the unusual procedure as well. So not only will we have infiltrated her computer, but she’s sure to notice the whole reason behind.”

Clarke’s free hand moves to her hair, and she plays with it a few seconds, trying to judge the consequences of the various options before her. She doesn’t enjoy the fact that the whole decision seems to depend on her. When the hell did she become the leader?

“Can’t you copy the files in my computer and then try for here?”

“If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be here right now.” Monty says as nicely as he can. “Mount Weather, like I told you, adapts. If I attack it on its weakness, which frankly doesn’t exist, it will mold itself and transforms that weakness into strength. If I change my approach, it will also modify its frontiers. It I copy those files onto your computer, it will first detect that I copied them, then detect the new computer, then probably disable said computer. Do you like your computer, Clarke?”

The blonde girl throws an exasperate glance at her friend, but doesn’t refute.

“What the hell is that thing?” Jasper mutters.

Bellamy sighs in impatience.

“Don’t you have anything else beside the fact that it’s impossible?”

“Are you a programmer?” Monty returns harshly.

Clarke almost loses her patience at the sight of Monty losing his. It has never happened in the many years she’s known him. The fact that it is happening now, means that it is really hopeless.

“Clarke, may I speak to you?” Lexa tugs her arm lightly, eyes boring through hers.

Clarke frowns at the emotionless voice. Lexa might not be a person with much disclosure when it comes to feelings, but that tone sounded so indifferent that it makes Clarke’s heart skip a beat.

She looks at her friends, waiting for any of them to speak up if they oppose the question, before rolling her eyes mentally at her behavior. It is her choice, not her friends’. She can’t rely on them for a simple request.

She nods, and they head to Clarke’s bedroom quietly in a slow pace. Lexa’s hand pulls Clarke inside as they close the door. The tallest woman releases her hold, and faces the inside of the room, letting her eyes get used to the sudden decrease of luminosity.

The room is an organized mess. Medical books and posters are filling half of it, while the other is decorated with paintbrushes and canvas of different sizes. Both sides are drastic opposites.

One of the four walls is white, and fresh paint’s smell fills the air. Lexa doesn’t need to ask to know that this is the wall Clarke paints on sometimes.

It is the first time Lexa even steps in Clarke’s sanctuary, and while they both wish it was in different circumstances, they both take a moment to appreciate it.

Lexa’s eyes stop at a small canvas, on which is displayed a charcoal portrait. She recognizes her own face and gasps quietly. Patterns of precise lines trace her features in a realist way, and even in black and white, she feels like she can see the color of her eyes.

She looks so alive on paper, and wonders if this Lexa has ever known tragedy the way she did. She feels Clarke’s emotions being poured on the small canvas, on this representation of a Lexa that doesn’t carry anything on her shoulders, and perhaps, Lexa thinks, it is not so far from reality anymore.

Lexa doesn’t say anything, but Clarke sees the way eyes fill with deep affection.

“Imagine what I could do if I had the model in front of me.”

They remain in silent, facing each other, few centimeters apart. They can almost feel each other’s soft breath, almost seize the inexplicable force of attraction they are surrounded with whenever they are left together. The urge to connect their lips together knocks them out, but Lexa can’t let her mind being distracted right now.

“Clarke, your friends are right, it is a dead end.”

Clarke blinks. She knows it, but hearing Lexa saying it makes her realize the implications it carries.

“I have a plan.” Lexa pronounces like a soldier marching to war with the determination of killing or being killed. “It’s dangerous, but please, listen.”

Clarke swallows the lump in her throat. This can’t be good.

***

Lexa never believed in karma.

Even when she was on the edge of death, blaming herself and inexplicably hurting her body, even then, karma was the last thing she’d put her faith in. She never thought her current misery could be destiny’s way of telling her she had done something wrong for failing to save Costia.

She never considered the deep feeling of loneliness surrounding her at night to be the result of something related to her past gestures. She used to think it wouldn’t get better, not because she did badly before, but simply because that was the way things were.

Even when she spent the entire night silently crying and sobbing, and spilling her heart out to the emptiness, drowning in her dirty secrets, hidden under the moon’s shadow, she never thought her personal enemy would ever pay for their crimes. She thought nothing could be done, because after relentless failed tries at finding any clue to throw in Nia’s face, she had given up.

She never truly believed that bad behavior was automatically followed by disastrous consequences; that those who must be punished were indeed, going to pay for their actions.

She always thought that if she wanted something to happen, she needed to do it herself.

Doing good or bad was not related at all.

She never once thought that karma would affect Nia’s life at all. Nia would continue to live, to breathe, to smile, to cry, to be human, despite her obvious lack of heart, or perhaps her heart was simply too obsessed by Costia to beat for anything and anyone else. In any cases, the result was sealed, and Lexa didn’t start praying for karma to throw Nia’s face on the ground.

Instead, she went down the rabbit hole, found a perverted version of wonderland, and traded her soul in exchanged for an illusion of control. She had felt dead until now.

Now, with Clarke’s friends behind her as well, it wasn’t over anymore.

It wasn’t karma. It was a real, rational, plausible chance, one she could feel through her finger, one she could reach for and hold steadily, one she could transfer to reality herself.

At first she had thought it would mean hacking and discovering the gold mine hidden in Nia’s computer. Now she realized it would take more to defeat her long date opponent.

She was the commander of her own destiny, and she knew that it was time for blood to have blood.

She had been a fool to think she could live and be fully satisfied without ever getting any kind of revenge against Nia. She deserved justice, something, anything.

Lexa stood tall in adversity.

She felt more alive than ever, and her blood was flooded by life.

***

They walk back under the scrutiny of the others. They stayed in Clarke’s room for only fifteen minutes, but it seems as if years have passed in the living room. Both computers are still open, waiting for any instruction.

From the surveillance cameras, it seems that Nia has not looked at her computer yet.

“We have a plan.” Clarke announces directly. “But you won’t like it.”

“We have Nia’s device,” Lexa starts, “and we have Mount Weather on both computers. At this point, getting proof of her responsibility in anything concerning Costia is close to impossible. The moment she realizes we tried something, she will come after us, and she will win.”

The two women stand in front of the group like two leaders complementing each other in a broken perfect way. They both share different stories, but they both seek the same ending.

“How are you so sure?” Bellamy asks Lexa. “She might have more than one enemy.”

“She haunted Costia for years. She stalked her. She cyberattacked her. She destroyed any chance of her ever getting a decent job. She manipulated her emotionally. She sent threats to everyone, from her friends, to her family, to me. She set her brother’s restaurant in fire. She pushed Costia toward death through a long torturous way filled with self-harm, guilt, blame and despair. It was always Costia, because Costia loved me. Because Costia was her first love, and she could not bear to leave her be. The only enemy she has, is me. The only person she knows to have enough reasons for revenge is me.”

“How are you so sure it’s all about you?” He replies.

“She still messages me.”

Clarke’s head snaps so fast in Lexa’s direction that they all hear the cracking of her bones.

That’s brand new information and Clarke isn’t even sure if she heard well. She desperately hopes she has hearing problems, despite knowing she doesn’t.

Lexa never mentioned this, despite the countless nights spent sharing secrets and spilling legends of magical words between each other. Lexa’s face never cracked under the pressure. Lexa’s body language never suggested anything whenever the woman’s phone beeped loudly in her pocket, and only now does Clarke realize how often it had happened.

“After Costia’s death, she disappeared from my life, with the exceptions of a few text messages from time to time, to remind me.”

She swallows hardly.

“She reminds me she has material to ruin my life if I ever seek revenge, but she’s careful enough in her formulation to not send anything I could use against her. There are no direct threats, only codes I’m the only one who can understand. She asks questions about Costia, about her whereabouts, her family. She tells me when she goes to TonDC bistro. She makes sure I know she has knowledge in anything related to fire.”

Clarke remembers the way Lexa’s posture always seemed to straighten when Clarke’s phone rang, but never when her own did the same.

Clarke wonders if it was because Lexa was worried Nia could reach her, the way she could reach the green eyed woman.

Lexa never said anything, but Clarke remembers how long it had taken for the both of them to exchange numbers. They both had implicitly accepted to not share them, but Clarke wonders if Lexa secretly wished they never did.

Perhaps Nia could reach through Lexa’s phone and find Clarke’s number, and that only thought makes the blonde shivers at the fear Lexa must have been through.

Clarke glances at Anya. Lexa’s best friend face doesn’t give anything away, and the blue eyed woman understands it means she knew. Anya must have accepted Raven’s help for that reason only, because as long as they did nothing, Nia would never stop.

Lexa faces Bellamy in an ultimate message.

“If you think that woman will stop because we are many against one, you will be the first to fall.”

Lexa’s phone has remained silent until now, but its weight is palpable. It feels like an arrow is piercing her skin, and the wound is quickly turning yellow and purple, getting infected. She knows the moment Nia realizes her laptop has been replaced, it will ring.

“We need to erase all trace that we were here,” Clarke says, taking in the anger radiating from her girlfriend’s body. “We can make Nia’s laptop attempts to hack my computer. Mount Weather from my device should be enough to kill it.”

“Great, so now Nia definitely won’t be able to find her laptop, how is that going to help us?” Jasper asks.

“It’s a start,” Clarke continues. “It will erase our passage from her computer. There won’t be anything to link us to the hacking part.”

“There won’t be any computer left.” Jasper mumbles to himself.

It’s a start yes, but it’s not enough. What if Nia had another computer? What if she had another hard drive at home, just waiting to be used?

“Lexa just said Nia had other material. What about that?” Octavia asks.

“Just like we don’t have proof to officially press charges against Nia, we have to make sure she doesn’t have proof we were ever in her house. We have to make sure she doesn’t have anything to get back at Lexa. And that’s the part of the plan you won’t like.”

Clarke’s voice never lacks strength when she announces:

“We need to destroy Nia’s house, and everything it contains.”

The silence is deafening.

Clarke might as well have announced they were going to space, because none of her friends dares to speak. They all agreed to be a part of the ‘try to get proof’ act, but ‘destroying a house’ was another level they weren’t sure they wanted to reach. Even Anya, usually excellent at hiding her reactions, is looking at Lexa with visible confusion in her face.

Lexa receives the uncertainty with conviction. She understands their reaction, because Clarke had the same, back when they were in private. The blonde woman had thought Lexa was joking, until emerald eyes blinked away any sense of amusement.

Lexa knows she can’t ask them to accept the plan without questioning it. She, herself, never thought she’d ever want to attack Nia in such a similar way the woman did to her, but she realizes now that it is the only way she’ll ever get a shadow of peace.

Blood must have blood. She needs justice, any kind of justice.

She needs it as much as she needs air to breathe, as she needs water to live, as she needs Clarke to smile.

“How?” Monty hesitant voice rises.

“Fire.”

She waits for a reaction and continues when she doesn’t get one.

“Criminal and crime joined by fire.”

Lexa scoffs at the realization that the one she calls the Ice Queen has used the warmest element to attack Costia’s brother.

Lexa waits for anything, any outburst, any objection.

“What the hell?” Octavia shouts. “You want to kill someone? That’s not justice, that’s vengeance! And illegal!”

“Raven knows when Nia will be out,” Clarke calmly says. “We won’t hurt her, only her house. We’re not murderers here.”

“Because there’s a difference,” Octavia harshly replies.

“Do you need an explicit list of everything wrong that woman did?” Clarke bites. “Because I can give you one. Lexa can give you one. Nia pushed someone to death, you can hate me all you want for saying this, but I fully support Lexa’s decision to even let Nia have a chance to get out of her place.”

Clarke challenges anyone to speak.

“If you want out, you can leave, but this is the only way to make sure Nia is left with nothing against us.” She finishes.

Her entire life, Clarke believed in right and wrong, black and white, love and hate. There were no radical opposites anymore, only blurred lines between her moral principles and her urges. She had no way of knowing where Nia would stop, if she ever would. She had no way to protect Lexa from getting hurt. She had no way of putting Nia to jail.

She had been lucky enough for Finn to get caught and been sent to prison, but Lexa hadn’t. Lexa hadn’t gotten anything for all those years of bullying, but Costia’s death. And now that she knew Nia still messages her girlfriend, she wasn’t going to let history repeats itself.

“What make you sure she won’t come after us after?” Raven asks with a prudent tone.

“You and Monty know how to mess with electrical circuits. Accidental fire isn’t hard to make. With nothing left, she won’t come after us. We just need to make it ravaging enough without it blowing up entirely.” Clarke murmurs.

“I have never replied to her messages, and I do not contact anyone she knows,” Lexa completes. “She has no reason to believe I’d ever be behind such event. If she does not have material anymore, maybe that will stop her from contacting me.”

“That’s the maybe part I’m not confident about.” Bellamy notes.

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“You’re not alone in this.” Bellamy bites back.

They watch Clarke’s laptop screen as Nia walks toward the replica, but turns at the last second to grab a book. The woman sits on the couch and starts reading, oblivious to any kind of distraction.

Monty doesn’t say anything. He looks at the screen, and back at Nia’s real computer, sitting on his lap. He proceeds to try to attack Clarke’s computer using the second laptop, starting the road to Nia’s computer’s destruction.

He figures he has no choice but to go through with this part of the plan, because no matter what is decided, they still have to get rid of any virtual link. He waits until Clarke’s protection by Mount Weather fires back at Nia’s laptop.

Nia’s computer screen loudly cracks and shatters as it gets eliminated by an alternative version of the software.

The whole thing lasted for half an hour, and Monty realizes he spent those minutes listening to silence. No words were spoken as the group watched him type furiously on the keyboard.

Nia’s figure is still reading the book, but every time she moves closer to the replica, the group’s hearts skip a beat. The air is so tense it could be cut with a knife.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Bellamy finally says, “but I’m not about to bet everyone’s life here. We don’t even have material proof that she’s guilty of anything. I heard what you said about Nia, and I believe you, but we have no way of knowing she still has evidence in her house. For all we know, we’ll set an empty house on fire.”

Lexa steps are strong, and rings loud in everyone’s ears as she crosses the room to the man.

“Nia sets an empty house on fire that night too. Only it wasn’t completely empty, was it?” Lexa bites back with knives in her eyes.

“Listen to me, we don’t know if she has anything in that house! For all we know, she’s not a threat to us, and she will be after!” Bellamy yells back.

“You want proof? Here, read.”

She violently throws her phone at him, and he almost drops it. He stares at the unlocked phone like it’s a bomb, but finally opens the messaging application. He can feel the whole room staring at him, and he regrets his words already. His eyes follows lines from messages received from an unknown number, the last one dating from the day before.

“Out loud.” Lexa orders, teeth gritting.

Bellamy hopes Lexa will leave him enough time to write his will before murdering him.

“Right, right,” he mutters quickly before reading the first one to the room, “it says ‘I just saw a tulip on my way home. I picked it up to keep it. What a shame to kill such a beautiful flower.’”

“Costia’s favorite flowers were tulips.” Lexa shoots as soon as he finishes reading.

Bellamy sighs.

“Do I really –“

“Go on.” Lexa commands.

 Clarke almost pities her friend. Almost. He did ask for it.

“’I hope you’re having a good day at the Ark, I heard the Black Forest cake was getting better.’”

“Clarke will confirm that this cake meant something special.” Lexa says.

“’I heard there’s a new art gallery near Polis University. You should invite someone.”

“Costia loved art. Polis University is where I went while Nia hunted her.” Lexa whispers, anger gone from her eyes.

Clarke smiles sadly at the small common interest she shares with the girl.

“’I miss you guys, we should totally hang out soon! It will be just like old times, you, me and Cos’”

“We used to be friends.” Lexa spits.

“’I forgot Cos’s favorite song, what it is?’”

“Imagine.” Lexa remembers.

“’Did you see that movie? I know you hate romantic comedy, but I think your girl would love it.’”

“She had terrible movies taste.” Lexa shakes her head in nostalgia.

“’Went to visit mama. She wants news!’”

“Costia was like Nia’s sister at some point. She doesn’t know anything.” Lexa’s nose wrinkles at the thought.

“’Chocolate ice cream with raspberry syrup and macadam nuts. Diggin’ it.’”

“Our usual ice cream treat.” Lexa licks her lips.

“’A guy walks in a café. Splash!’”

“Costia’s favorite dumb joke.” Lexa’s eyes roll.

“Camping, camp fire, I love watching the flames, don’t you?”

Bellamy stops reading. He’s had enough. He gets the point. He’s being proven wrong. He doesn’t want proof, proof has been sent to Lexa already.

He gives the woman her phone back and quietly apologizes.

Lexa nods, and walks back to her rightful place, beside Clarke. The green eyed woman doesn’t cry anymore at all those memories. She doesn’t even find it hard to tell them out loud. Words don’t sound forced anymore. She doesn’t need to concentrate on her voice anymore. Instead she smiles at all those anecdotes, proud to share them. She glows at the realization that she now has a whole new book of bright memories, with Clarke.

“I can make her house go boom.” Raven says slowly, eyes shadowed with salted water. “According to her schedule, she has to leave in two hours and won’t be home until later in the night. That leaves us more than enough time to make sure it works.”

Raven made up her mind, nothing anyone can say will change it. Octavia seems to have come to the same conclusion, as she steps next to Lexa, looks her dead in the eyes and speaks through grit teeth:

“Your life sucks but if this fails, I’m not taking the fall.”

Lexa nods, before Anya grabs her shoulders and shakes them slightly.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You can leave if you want.”

“Lexa, damn it! I knew about those messages. I didn’t say anything because I knew you wouldn’t talk about it! And I knew if I tried something, you’d stop me, but setting fire?”

They pierce through each other’s soul through an intense stare contest. Anya tries to convey everything, everything that could possibly go wrong with this plan, to her best friend, but the latter doesn’t blink.

“I don’t want to lose you too.” Anya admits.

Lexa’s posture flinches, but it regains strength quickly. She remains the imperturbable statue that can’t, and won’t, give in to anything, and after a few minutes, Anya drops her position.

Anya’s support to Lexa has been unalterable, no matter what. It was the whole reason why she had supported Raven’s infinite sass through two months of intense planning. Since the very beginning, there was no doubt in her mind she would follow Lexa’s choice.

“How sure are you about wanting to do this?” She asks.

“If death has no cost, life has no worth.”

Words escape Lexa’s mouth, and Clarke wonders how long the girl has been keeping them bottled in.

“Tonight then.” Raven confirms with Lexa.

“Raven?” Bellamy questions.

He can’t help feeling that this is a bad idea, his desire to protect the group taking his emotions over.

“Tonight, Bell.”

***

The evening comes fast, too quickly for Clarke.

She’s monitoring the cameras’ view on her computer screen as she watches Raven and Monty infiltrate Nia’s house. Her nervousness is reaching moon’s level, and she can’t stop her feet from making slight bumps on her car’s carpet. She bites her lips too often, and she’s surprised she doesn’t taste blood already. She almost regrets agreeing with such a plan, but it’s too late to go back.

They are lucky enough to have Nia’s laptop replica go unnoticed, they can’t wait any longer to risk it being discovered.

She’s sitting in her Lexus, microphone in one hand, ready to order retreat if Nia comes back early than expected. She takes in Lexa’s sight, sitting in the passenger seat, eyes fixing the house hidden by trees’ shadows. The brunette eyes are filled with determination, and Clarke knows that, had Lexa known how to start an accidental fire, she’d have done it already.

Anya is sitting behind them, watching attentively her friend as well. She isn’t quite sure what result this action will have, but she wants to minimize any possible unexpected blow.

The sun is quickly disappearing above them, and they want to make sure Raven’s long gone before the darkness takes over.

Bellamy, Jasper and Octavia are confined in another car, parked a few meters away to have a better view on the street. They communicate through a radio system as well, to make sure their cellphones don’t record anything.

They spent the whole afternoon planning every single detail of their plan. They wrote everything, minutes by minutes.

They have alibi, as they all went to a movie theater, and, thanks to Monty’s skills at tempering the security system, it seems they are all still inside.

Monty would go first. He would disable every fire alarm by replacing their battery with empty ones. He couldn’t take the alarms with him, because that would definitely give the fire crew something suspicious to look into. Used batteries were not unusual.

Lexa had made sure to bring every type of possible battery, from all brands and sizes, to make sure they were replacing them with the same ones.

Costia used to have a project about recycling old batteries. Somehow, Lexa had kept those empty batteries.

Perhaps karma has a tiny role in the whole mess.

Raven would go in next. She would locate the electrical panel and analyze the quickest fastest way to make it dysfunctional, without it being suspicious. She already had a few ideas of how she could do it. She had to make sure it would not start while she was inside, because if something went wrong, they wouldn’t risk her staying stuck in the house.

Once started, the fire would need to spread quickly, but not too much to give enough time for the house to be damaged enough. It would need to be strong enough to turn every last thing to ashes, but not too strong to make it suspicious. They couldn’t risk anything go wrong with that part, because it was the whole point of their mission.

Nia lived alone, in a small, modest house. The neighborhood was quiet, and the house wasn’t directly attached to another one, which made their plan easier.

“Guys,” Raven’s voice whispers through the radio. “We need to remove the cameras!”

“We won’t be able to see you anymore,” Bellamy warns.

“It will only be for a few minutes. We can’t leave them in, they will give us away.”

“I’ll go back.” Monty replies and disappears around the house.

His small figure is noticeable from the street, but no car disturbs the silence, and the group breathes a little easier. He comes back quickly and pushes his thumb up, a small plastic bag full of recording devices in his hand.

Minutes pass and Clarke gets impatient. She doesn’t like not seeing inside. She fears the black screen like it’s a giant enemy that will trap her in darkness forever.

“Make sure you get out on time.” She orders Raven.

She will never forgive herself if Raven gets trapped. Lexa turns to face her, and offers her the smallest smile. It makes her heart bursts with joy, but does not calm her brain.

Raven fiddles with threads from all colors, connecting one and shortening others. She walks through Nia’s house, changing a few light bulbs in each room. She walks past the replica laptop she had Murphy made for her a few weeks ago and sighs at the thought that she still owe him a favor. This guy is a pain in the ass, but at least, he’s helpful.

She cuts more wires, and shapes them into exact sizes, reuniting all to one single cable. She makes sure to follow a popular display technicians sometimes create when they install recent wires. Nothing suspicious should come up in the future inspection to look for the cause of fire, except that the technician did a terrible job at isolating each wire from one another.

It happens sometimes, and does not always cause fire. No alarms should ring in the security analysis.

She looks down at her brace. Once she lights a spark, she will have only a few seconds to leave the house before it combusts. She can’t fully run, but she can make it work. She has to.

“Almost done here.” She announces to the others.

She makes sure everything is connected before she takes a step back. She walks away from the electrical panel, only to bump in a bookcase.

A few books stumble down, and the sound compares to an earthquake in her ears.

“Shit.”

She’s sure it won’t be a problem to explain with the fire and all, but she can’t risk it. She puts them back in place, glancing everywhere at the same time. She can’t see anything in the dark but she notices a small polaroid photography falling from the inside of a book.

“Shit,” she repeats, pocketing it.

“Raven, stop saying this and come out!” Clarke’s voice urges her.

The place is so quiet the mechanic can hear her body releasing adrenaline and sweat. It makes her aware of the situation she’s in, of the danger’s she putting herself in. One trace of anything related to her, and their plan fails. She breathes deeply. She has this, she thinks. She can’t allow herself to think of anything else.

The spark takes one second to make the whole mechanism reacts, and Raven rushes outside the house, bumping into a few chairs on her way out. It doesn’t matter, the chairs won’t give her away.

She’s out of the house just as the different lightbulbs from the different rooms all explode at the same time, small firecrackers illuminating through the various windows.

She opens Clarke’s car door and crashes in the backseat, knocking Anya over.

“Sorry,” Raven mumbles. “It’s done. If the fire doesn’t spread, we’re fucked.”

“Why wouldn’t it spread?” Clarke asks quietly, inquietude in her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Raven protests. “I’m not a chemist, I can’t just mix a bunch of things together and make it look ‘normal’ in an average house. I connected lightbulbs from different rooms to a main circuit, to make them all go boom. It should be enough to make the fire grow quickly, rather than starting it in one room only. It shouldn’t look suspicious, I arrange the wires in a specific way.”

Clarke accepts the answer. She doesn’t have any choice.

“If something goes wrong-“

“It won’t.” Raven assures.

“Listen,” Clarke says, “if anything goes wrong, if we get caught, it’s going to be my fault. You all should tell that.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I don’t want you to live with a choice I’ve made in the first place. It’s not your burden to bear.”

Lexa frowns. Clarke doesn’t get it. If anyone should be punished, it should be her, not Clarke.

“Shut up before I catch feelings.” Raven dismisses her. “Look at my art, look at our art. We’re not leaving you.”

Soon enough, waves of red, orange and yellow decorate the other side of the different windows. It looks like someone has splashed the windows with liquid light. The colors paint the house in a glorious representation of a camp fire, and faint smoke trails start to appear in the minuscule cracks of the walls. It seems as if all the rooms were lighted up at the same time.

The fire is small, but there’s no doubt that it’s spreading, and Anya hears the way her roommate’s breath loses its tension.

“Thank you, Raven.”

Lexa’s voice is sincere, and on the edge of breaking from the whirlpool of emotions that are assaulting her mind. 

Raven is taken aback by so much vulnerability and gratitude from someone she has always seen like a closed person. She nods silently. She’ll accept the words once she makes sure her plan is successful.

“I think it’s working guys!” Jasper’s voice echoes through their car.

They don’t answer, the spectacle in front of them being enough to confirm his words. Nia left her house early, and under the summer’s warm weather’s influence, kept two windows partly open. Raven knew this, and made sure to change all lightbulbs in those specific rooms rather than simply one or two.

Dark grey smoke escapes quietly from them, liberating space to invite more oxygen in the room, feeding the starving bright flames. Flashes of color stretch outside in the now dark evening, illuminating the atmosphere with a magically glow coming straight from hell.

The scent of burnt woods makes its way to the two cars, and their occupants all think that such a destructive element should not have such a pleasant smell. They can hear the subtle sounds the fire makes as it accumulates energy. It’s always growing stronger and fiercer.

The orange combustion of diverse materials that compose the house makes it crackle. The flare breaks through the small imperfections of the house, and crepitates as it devours more territory.  

It sounds like a symphony to Lexa’s ears.

Sooner than later, flames entirely break free from the small openings of the windows, and lick the exterior walls, expending their never ending reach toward the sky. The blazing amber rises above, spreading to the roof.

It envelops the now gone shelter in an inferno cocoon. It lights up the starless sky like a lighthouse in the middle of a city, searching to guide firetrucks toward it.

The pleasant smell is replaced by the stink of burnt plastic. and small parts of the foundations start to crumble under the weight of the massacre. The bright yellow monster eradicates everything on its way.

They notice a few neighbors looking outside, phones at their hands.

The smoke grows heavier, and even in the secure Lexus, Lexa has difficulty to breathe fresh air. The heat is suffocating, and everyone is sweating while staring at the blast. Lexa’s moist hand clings to Clarke’s like it is a lifejacket, because she is drowning in a volcano full of emotions.

Fire is everywhere.

It surrounds them. It hugs their entire world, and desperately tries to include the rest of the universe in its hold, unaware of how deathly it is. It consumes their senses and blurs their notion of space and time.

Raven did an excellent job, for the fire whooshes in all direction, and soon, it is hard to tell which parts are intact. A wall crumbles just as the first firetrucks’ sirens resonate in proximity to the quiet street.

“We need to leave!” Bellamy speaks loudly in the radio. “We can’t stay here, if we’re found, we’ll be questioned. Come one!”

The grey car he drives starts and leaves the scene, its headlights carefully turn off, not drawing any attention from the few neighbors outside. He even removed temporarily his license plate.

“He’s right,” Clarke turns to Lexa, “we need to go.”

She waits for any type of confirmation, but she receives none. She shares a glance with Anya in the mirror, and receives a small shake of the head. She nods and drives away, as the first truck appears at the opposite corner of the street.

Lexa’s eyes are glued to the scene as the car moves away.

Her entire body trembles at the way the blaze seems to look at her, to communicate with her in a language she struggles to understand. Her throat is obstructed by the amount of words she wants to share but can’t.

She used to believe fire meant ultimate destruction, the ending of everything, and the death of all it touches. She was convinced that nothing good could ever come from such a golden red world.

And yet, she has never felt more alive than now, staring at the sight. Her nightmares used to be full of those colors, and yet, she feels like she’s in a dream, a utopia from another universe. She doesn’t see an ending, but rather, a chance at another beginning.

She sees ashes and thinks of everything new she could build over them. She notices walls falling down, and she imagines new ones, standing tall, indestructible. She hears the way everything falls apart, and she pictures a whole new life, where the fallen rise again and start over.

She’s protected by the car’s roof, but she feels the rain of burning ashes scarring her entire soul and body.

She remembers the way she was standing in front of a different burning house months ago, how lost she felt, how helpless her body was.

She remembers the small voice in her head that spoke to her, repeating over and over a tale of broken life and defeated war.

She remembers, and she does not lose herself in her thoughts anymore.

 She is still repulsed by the way Costia lost her battle, but she embraces her memories.

She sees the way it changed her, and she welcomes it. She feels the way her body struggled to keep her alive all these months, and she’s overwhelmed by life.

She tears her eyes apart from the window as they turn yet another corner, leaving the scene behind, and aims them at the quiet blonde driver.

“Hey.” Raven’s voice disturbs her. “I found this.”

She is given a small square of paper, a small photography. The ink is wasted, but she can still see the contour of a place on fire. It mirrors the way Nia’s house is still printed in her mind.

Lexa struggles to breathe when she realizes it’s a picture of TonDC, illuminating the night with its burning walls. It stands like a geyser in the dark. The date is written in Nia’s handwriting right at the back of the image.

A mere memory of the past.

“It was between some book’s pages… I didn’t have time to look for more.”

Lexa’s eyes shines with the realization that, while this isn’t a proof that Nia started the fire, it still represents the slight possibility that she did it.

Clarke’s head turns to see the picture.

Maybe it is the wrong way to seek justice, but the way sapphire eyes quickly meet emerald ones, forgiveness and affection mixed in together, makes Lexa believe that ‘wrong’ is a relative notion.

There is no right, and there is no wrong, and there is only uncertainty, and the way she chose to cope with its presence.

“Costia’s fight is over.”

Lexa’s inaudible whisper gets lost in the city as the car gains speed, turning its back at the large charcoal grey smoke tower in the sky.

***

“Is everything fine?”

Lexa’s voice breaks the silence. It’s close to four in the morning, and she’s lying awake on Clarke’s bed, as the blonde gently embraces her. She still feels the trace of adrenaline flowing through her blood, and her heart is racing in her chest. She’s not sure whether to attribute it to the fire, or to the fact that Clarke’s arms are holding her like she’s the most precious person in the world.

Bellamy’s car never came back to Clarke’s place, the Blake siblings saying they needed to recover from the intense experience of being criminals. Anya asked to be left at her and Lexa’s place, and invited Raven over for a drink. They both exchanged looks with their respective best friends.

_Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do._

But then again, they all knew there’s nothing they wouldn’t do.

The speed at which their clothes were removed once home proved that the message had been understood, loud and clear.

It is cliché, how they celebrated something so wrong with moans and muffled groans, begs and pleads bouncing loudly on every wall of the empty apartment.

The way Lexa’s body arched as the touch of her lover would own her deeply was imprinted in Clarke’s memory. The way Clarke came twice as Lexa’s tongue explored every inch of her delightful body was engraved in Lexa’s soul.

Clarke still has no idea how her bedroom door was strong enough to support the way they crashed into it, limbs clinging together in desperate motions.

“I am,” Clarke’s raspy voice reassures. “Really, I am.”

The artist feels Lexa nods hesitantly, as if the other girl can’t quite believe the words. Clarke doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t believe herself either. She just helped Lexa set someone’s house on fire, and no matter how they disguise it as justice, there’s a small part of revenge in the whole scheme as well.

She sighs. Perhaps the old version of her, living happily ever after with her family and perfect boyfriend, would have disapproved of Lexa’s choice. However, it is not who she is anymore, and she knows very well she agreed to the plan at the very beginning. She agreed with Lexa’s way, because she wanted to.

“Clarke?”

The softened voice is something Clarke wishes to hear more often, and she believes she might now that Nia’s problem might be solved.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Clarke is an artist. She appreciates any form of art, and she thinks Lexa’s words are a masterpiece themselves. She tightens her arms around Lexa and buries her head in the tender neck.

Lexa’s it for Clarke, and the mere thought makes a smile finds its way to her lips. She feels the realness of their relationship flows through her veins, heart redistributing it everywhere in her body. She can’t believe it took her so long to realize how strong her feelings were, but now that she knows it, she never wants to let them go.

Closing her eyes would be a disaster, for she might miss the simple way Lexa looks at her like they belong together.

“Lexa?”

“Yes?”

Clarke’s face looks up at Lexa and, both girls deepen the cuddle.

“Thank _you._ ”

She wishes time would stop. She wishes she could make Lexa stay with her, hidden in a blanket fort, until the end of days, where they would do nothing but love each other.

And the four word letter doesn’t scare her. She doesn’t need to say it out loud. Its reciprocity is sent through her body whenever she catches Lexa looking at her a little bit too long, whenever she feels Lexa’s body pressing harder against her, whenever she hears Lexa’s voice calling her out, whenever she breathes the familiar scent of the other woman as they stand closer and closer and incredibly closer.

Clarke pushes her swollen lips against Lexa’s in a deep kiss, her hands navigating on Lexa’s body again.

She slips her thigh between Lexa’s, and the brunette’s body reacts automatically by pushing itself forward. Clarke’s eyes roll back as she feels wetness already soaking her limb, Lexa grinding onto her in an animalistic way.

Their lips are being sucked gently as velvet tongues deeply dance together.

Their naked bodies merge into one another again as they roll on the bed, and Clarke let herself be dominated by the sight of Lexa hovering above her, her silhouette visible only through the moonlight.

Clarke thinks that this is going faster, and better, than before.

They barely stop to inhale oxygen, preferring to survive by the way their breaths mix together relentlessly. They can’t get enough of each other, and too soon, Lexa’s body is fully straddling Clarke as the blonde breasts press against hers.

“Let me.” Lexa murmurs as Clarke moves to switch their position.

Clarke’s hands stroke Lexa’s muscular back up and down, pressing slightly when she reaches the other’s woman hips, trying to erase the already inexistent distance between them. It almost feels hard for her to breathe as she feels her body being crushed under Lexa’s, but nothing in the world would make her push the woman back.

It works though, because Lexa’s hips automatically roll, making Clarke moans loudly. The green eyed woman smiles in their kiss as she swallows the sound. She stares at darkened blue eyes, convinced her own are haunted by the same lustful light, and parts way for a second before licking Clarke’s neck languorously.

Clarke has no doubt, judging by the intense feeling on her neck, that she will have a mark the next day. Clarke feels reborn under Lexa’s touches.

Lexa’s hands move to cup Clarke’s breasts, caressing delicately at first, and passionately a few seconds later. Her hot breath soon hovers over both of them, and she takes one in her mouth, sucking harder as Clarke’s breathing increases in speed. She gives attention to the other, lightly biting the sensible skin, twirling her tongue around the hard nipple.

Clarke’s hands are buried in Lexa’s hair as hands moves south between them, in a slow, torturous, way, making the blonde’s body shivers from excitement. Lexa’s mouth is all over Clarke’s body, claiming it with kisses and bites.

“Is this okay?” Lexa pants breathlessly.

“What’s not okay is that you’re not touching me already.” Clarke’s husky voice groans.

Clarke’s thoughts are wipe clean as fingers come extremely close to where she wants them, yet not quite at the right place yet. She’s about to curse when she feels Lexa’s body moving up against, and warm lips abducting hers once again.

The contact is harder, deeper and urging Clarke to open her mouth. Teeth clatter together as they both enter their familiar war for dominance, and the ache between Clarke’s legs deepens, sending waves through her entire body.

Her breath picks up, and her moans evolve into tiny gasps as Lexa finally gives her what she wants, fingers rubbing against her intimacy, circling her clit in an ecstatic way. Lexa’s hips roll once again, searching for friction, pushing her body harder onto Clarke’s.

The blonde woman frees Lexa’s lips, only to moves her head back against the pillow in ecstasy.

“I need you.” She whimpers, begging for more.

Lexa hears, but doesn’t listen. She’s focused on the way Clarke’s hips bump with hers, trying to gain something, but never reaching her goal. She’s drinking the sight of Clarke’s shut eyes, mouth partly open, sweat running on her forehead as the need for more grows exponentially. She keeps stroking Clarke’s wetness, purposely avoiding the most sensitive place.

She bends down once again, giving feather light kisses on her way down to the dripping entrance. She marks invisible places and blesses whoever made it possible for Clarke to even look at her in that bar. She places her free hand on Clarke’s hip, steadying the pleading girl.

She wants to ask Clarke if she can continue, but before she can even move apart from Clarke’s body, she feels hands pushing, guiding her head farther.

She smiles at Clarke’s impatience, but obeys the silent order. Two fingers enter the tight woman and suddenly, Lexa’s head is filled with Clarke’s voice, imploring for more.

Clarke craves the contact more than ever before, and she can feel her needs building up. She fears she might lose her mind if Lexa teases too much.

Lexa exhales directly in Clarke’s center, and it makes the blonde react faster under her grip. Lexa in surrounded by the musky smell as she tentatively moves her tongue over Clarke’s sex.

She almost gets her nose broken when Clarke’s hips shoot higher.

She starts pumping her fingers in and out, her digits moving in easily as they are soaked with Clarke’s juices.

Lexa continues while wrapping her tongue around Clarke’s small bundle of nerves. She traces patterns of indistinct shapes, savoring the flavor and taking her time, slowing her pace when she feels Clarke is too close to the edge, to which the blonde woman growls in frustration.

She sucks avidly at Clarke’s clit, giving it the attention it deserves, and is rewarded by hands scratching her back lightly. Her own body reacts by increasing its speed.

She feels her own needs developing at the feeling of Clarke’s warmness tightening around her fingers. Lexa needs to be touched, but she’s willing to die satisfying Clarke before letting her selfish urges take over. She pushes in a third finger, eliciting a loud cry from the woman.

“Fuck! Lexa!”

Her name sounds like heaven when it is screamed this way, and Lexa wants to hear it over and over again. She wants to live in that sound. She wants to die listening to that voice, over and over. She wants to never forget the vibrations of the air that surround them.

Clarke’s hips struggle to remain in place, and even Lexa’s hard pressure can’t contain the movement anymore. She moves her hand on Clarke’s back, raising slightly the blonde’s lower back closer to her mouth.

Lexa will never get enough of this moment, and she drinks from Clarke’s body hungrily. Her mouth makes Clarke surrender to her, and Lexa moans, sending vibrations through Clarke’s core.

She increases her pace, pushing harder and deeper, curling her fingers and feeling every inch of Clarke’s body reacting to the sensation as her lover reaches her climax.

Lexa licks Clarke’s sex like she’s never tasted anything else before, not giving it any time to recover. She’s still starving, and she can’t slow down the feast. She sends small tremors of pleasure through her girlfriend’s body as she feels her own craving the same feeling.

Still pumping in and out, Lexa’s body connects with Clarke’s again, as she reaches for her red lips in a fluid motion. The blonde’s delicious body stiffens again under the attack of another orgasm.

The artist tastes herself on Lexa’s tongue, rolling her eyes at the sensation. Lexa takes time to share the sweet aroma, never pulling their heads apart.

Clarke moans deeply as the woman makes her way down once more. This time, gentle isn’t an existing concept, as Lexa’s fingers pumps hard and fast, and her mouth sucks on Clarke’s center like there is no tomorrow. The already sensible clit doesn’t survive long at the assault, and Clarke pants heavily, eyes struggling to open as she sees stars behind her eyelids, reaching a third orgasm.

She shakes as Lexa’s tongue cleans the mess, and slowly, her heartbeat reaches average levels again.

“What. Fuck.” She lets out as Lexa sends a malicious smirk to her.

Clarke’s arms embrace Lexa’s body like a personal armor, as she hugs the life out of her girlfriend. She catches her breath for a few seconds. She deliberately makes Lexa believe she needs more time, and when the girl with emerald eyes lets her guard down, Clarke harshly turns them over.

She immediately attacks Lexa’s neck as her hands block Lexa’s arms above her head.

She takes control and grinds her body into Lexa’s. She bites her lips as she looks at the once dominating woman now under her, already on the edge of coming. This will be no sensual experience, for Lexa needs something now, and Clarke anticipates her name being screamed louder than ever before.

Lexa’s hands try to free themselves from Clarke’s hold, only to have the blonde woman push them back hard on the mattress.

“Don’t touch me until I tell you. I’m always on top.” She whispers devilishly, licking her lips as Lexa’s eyes widen.

***

They lie in bed until noon, both sleeping the sleepless night away. Clarke is awake before Lexa, and groans at the familiar ache she feels everywhere. She can see the sun through her curtains, and knows it’s a miracle her roommates are still not back. Or perhaps this had been planned since the very beginning, she will need to ask them and thank them if that’s the case.

After making Lexa comes twice, her lover had been sure to take her sweet revenge once again. They had both fallen asleep almost immediately after long lustful kisses.

“Go to sleep, Clarke.” Lexa’s tired voice whispers.

Clarke smiles. She’s spooning Lexa, and of course, the irregular breathing means the woman is also awake. She chuckles at the huge purple mark on Lexa’s soft neck. She will probably be in trouble for that later, but she doesn’t mind being punished. Now that she thinks about it, she frowns. She probably has a bigger hickey, judging by the amount of time she felt Lexa working her magic on her.

She braces herself for the inevitable teasing she will face when her roommates return.

She feels Lexa’s body slowly getting heavier, cuddling farther in her embrace and grins. She’d never have guessed that this woman would be such a softie when she saw her for the first time at Grounders bar. She thought they’d have a great time and move on.

Now, she realizes, she wants to spend her whole life discovering Lexa’s world.

To Clarke, Lexa feels like coming home after a hard day at work.

She’s like waking up thinking it’s Monday, only to realize it’s still Saturday.

She’s the physical representation of a carefree rainy afternoon spent being transported through pages of old books.

She feels like the first calm breath one takes after suffering from a panic attack.

She tastes like the first bite of one’s favorite food after spending all day starving.

She looks like the outside world when one opens a door after spending too much time trapped in a windowless room.

She smells like hot chocolate on a glacial day spent shoveling snow in the blizzard.

She’s the pens and brushes Clarke uses to escape the world. 

She feels like that little tug that stops Clarke from crashing to the ground when her parachute deploys.

Clarke thinks about yesterday, about the events, everything they did, every law they broke, and every way Lexa’s face slowly took in the fire.

She hopes it will be enough to make Nia stay away from them, because she never wants to see Lexa’s eyes so empty ever again. She’d give her own sanity to make sure Lexa keeps hers.

She wonders if Lexa still blames herself.

It is a suffocating burden, and no one should walk through life with such a weight on their shoulders, especially not Lexa. She remembers the way she used to blame herself for Finn hurting Raven, and the way she finally found the strength inside to let it go.

She wishes she could offer the same gift to Lexa. She doesn’t mind her girlfriend sharing about the past. She won’t, ever, stop Lexa from talking about Costia.

Costia belongs only to the past, and Clarke knows Lexa thinks the same way.

“Lexa?” She murmurs.

She thinks the woman has fallen asleep, but she receives a slight poke in her ribs from an elbow.

“You never did anything wrong,” Clarke says in such a low voice that she wonders if all is happening for real. “To Costia.”

Lexa’s body pushes a little bit more into Clarke’s, but the woman doesn’t answer. Her eyes are still closed, and her lips are pursed in a thin line, but Clarke knows she’s listening.

“I don’t know how to make you understand the way I see the situation,” Clarke swallows the lump in her throat, but her voice still wavers from the tsunami of emotions crashing into her. “I wish you could believe that nothing was your fault.”

Lexa’s hand squeezes Clarke’s over her stomach. She takes a deep breath, and wait.

Clarke feels tears in her eyes, but refuses to let them out. She won’t cry, not after such a perfect night they just shared.

“You really don’t need it, because you didn’t do anything wrong, but,” Clarke whispers, “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give it to you. You’re forgiven, Lexa.”

 Lexa doesn’t move for a moment, her thumb stroking the back of Clarke’s hand.

She sighs and turns to face Clarke, forest eyes meeting sky ones for the umpteenth time. They will never get over the way they complete each other, and they’d never want to if they could. Lexa’s mouth is partly open, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. She closes her lips, parts them again, opens them again.

When words don’t seem to be enough to carry her thoughts, she closes her mouth definitely, and tries to transfer everything by the look in her eyes.

Clarke gets lost in the maze she’s presented to, and reads Lexa’s mind the best she can. She sees anger and sadness, a trace of guilt, but mostly, she sees a deeper emotion that surpasses all others. It burns in Lexa’s soul and combusts any coherent thoughts. It consumes Lexa’s mind, making all rationality fly out the window. It is directed directly at Clarke, at Clarke’s heart and soul.

“You’re forgiven.” Clarke repeats.

Lexa stares at Clarke and realizes that love isn’t weakness. Clarke isn’t Lexa’s weakness.

To Lexa, Clarke is like running in early mornings, listening to the sounds of a new day.

She’s like coming back home and realizing her parents wrote her a letter from the other side of the globe.

She’s the physical representation of reaching the top of the highest mountain, feeling like she can touch the clouds in her hands.

She feels like the fresh wind on a hot day of summer.

She tastes like a new favorite flavor exploding in one’s mouth.

She looks like the plane one is eager to board when they’re about to travel the universe.

She smells like coffee, warm and reassuring, after a night spent reflecting on life’s secrets.

She’s the music and rhythms Lexa listens to when she runs. 

She feels like the atmosphere, keeping her alive and protecting her from the infinite void.

Her lips meet Clarke once again, because nothing she can say will ever be enough to convey everything she feels.

“It is not weakness.” Lexa whispers.

She wants to live in the sky until her body is buried in the ground, and Clarke wants to live on the ground until her soul floats up there.

“It has never been weakness.” Clarke murmurs. “And you’ve always known it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time since the fire: It doesn't matter anymore.
> 
> Guys, this was the last official chapter! I know some parts might seem inadequate for a AU, but it seemed logical for this story.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read :D I will write an epilogue, starting tomorrow afternoon when midterms will be over, so wait for it!


	13. Epilogue: What if?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... what if?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'm satisfied with the way it ends. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it too. It's 2AM here, I'm half dead and I'm guessing it might be a weird time to update, but I will be too busy losing my sanity tomorrow over the new episode to post a chapter, so here it is.

**Epilogue: What if?**

_You spent the first month living in constant fear, surrounded by a cloud of anxiety. You jumped whenever one of your phones would buzz, whenever a letter was delivered to one of your places, whenever you saw the glimpse of someone who looked a little bit too much like your long date enemy. The only person who truly understood you and gave you the space you needed was the one person you feared for the most. You would overprotect Clarke, who would gently, but firmly, remind you that she was more than capable to take care of herself._

_Still, you never let your guard down._

_The second month went quieter, externally. Internally, you still anticipated the texts, the calls, the words you might come across. You glanced everywhere, whenever you left your apartment; worried you might come back to a war zone later that day. You stopped breathing whenever a tone of voice sounded too familiar for your liking, whenever you walked by police stations. You were terrified, but you didn’t show it._

_Clarke always knew how to read into your eyes, and would find the sweetest ways to make you feel safe again._

_The third month was Christmas vacations. It had been quite a while since you last celebrated one. You used to dream of it, many times, but you were either too busy with school, or too busy fighting in a war, or too busy grieving the fallen soldier. Clarke had invited you to South America, and despite feeling uncomfortable with the money issue, you had accepted. You had the chance to swim into the sea, to taste the awful salted water, to watch fireworks explode in the sky, to eat s’mores and overdose on sugar. The fact that her mother, while mostly absent, had almost caught you with your fingers deep inside Clarke had only made the trip more memorable._

_Your laugh always reached your eyes, and you’d never forget the way the sunrise reflected in Clarke’s pupils as you’d make love to her._

_The fourth month flew by. You were back to finals, ready to conquer those grades with a hand of steel. You were nailing those tests while Clarke was busy selling her first pieces of art. You were studying every day and every night, and you forgot about the world outside your textbooks. Your mind was made of laws and abstract notions like universal peace and justice. You’d neglect responding to your parents’ letters and you’d cancel some activities with Anya._

_You never neglected your girlfriend for school._

_The fifth month was the routine, the calm life you didn’t think you’d ever get again. Clarke would show up in one of your class, pretend to belong there, while clearly trying to distract you from listening to the teacher. It was easy for her to hide, as the classes were huge, and there were over a hundred students listening quietly to what was said. She would walk you to school and sometimes Anya would tag along, subtly asking where Raven was. You never knew what had happened between those two, but you suspected it was memorable. You sometimes went with Clarke to wherever she needed to be to promote her arts._

_You were always introduced as her beloved girlfriend, and your heart always reacted strongly to the label._

_Now, six months later, you live again. Six long, torturous months, waiting for Nia’s possible attack, only to realize, there was none at the horizon. You don’t know what to attribute it to, and frankly, the only thing you care about is that Clarke and her friends are not under threat._

_You think it’s a miracle. You never believed in miracles, but then again, there were many things you started to believe in again when Clarke appeared._

_You can’t quite believe Clarke._

_You can’t quite believe you’re alive, physically and mentally, and not exhausted to be._

_You can’t quite believe that being in love feels so good._

***

On the first year anniversary of Costia’s death, Lexa had done her best to ignore the date, drowning herself in activities of all sorts.  She had poured her soul in avoidance, leaving Anya behind to cope alone on the lost. After writing countless words to empty her mind, Lexa had run miles of trails to reach the top of a mountain. Reaching the highest arrival line had not been enough to stop her. She had continued until air couldn’t give her energy anymore, until the blood in her veins felt like acid, and she had crashed in the secure darkness of her bedroom. She had found herself in a hospital, staring at a blue parachute, a few days later.

On the second year anniversary of Costia’s death, Lexa had found herself ordering a beer rather than her usual plate of shots at Grounders. She had almost, almost, forgotten the date. She had found refuge in the presence of a blonde woman who held the sky in her eyes and the sun in her hair. She had watched alcohol poisons the blood of that celestial woman, unable to rescue her from its cursed call. She had hurt her wrist while punching her sole enemy, and seen the person she cared too much for move away from her.

On the third year since the fire, Lexa had been determined to change the rules. No more sad evenings wondering why the day went so bad, and no more guilt. It had been marked by the fourth month since she’d set fire to Nia’s house, and the welcome back from college. She thought about Costia, but she didn’t take time to miss her, for she was too busy laughing at some silly movie Clarke had forced her to watch.

And today, three years and two months after Costia’s death, and six months after Nia’s house had mysteriously burned to ashes, there is another anniversary to think about.

One year.

One year since she’d walked in Gustus’ bar and met Clarke.

One year ago, she wouldn’t have guessed she would even be smiling today, and yet.

Well, she isn’t exactly smiling at the moment.

“You look green,” an amused voice says in her ear. “It almost matches your eyes.”

Lexa doesn’t answer and takes a deep breath. When she feels comfortable enough to keep her stomach’s content inside her body, she speaks quickly, afraid her control might be of short duration.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.”

“You told me that already, remember? A long time ago,” Clarke smirks. “And what did I answer?”

Lexa’s current biggest worry is to not throw up inside the cheap little plastic bag hanging from the seat in front of her. The plane engine roars as it makes the steel machine descends from the sky.

“That I was going to have a hard time dealing with you,” Lexa mutters between clenched teeth.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Clarke answers innocently. “I don’t understand how you could jump off a plane, and yet you’re dying right now. It was only a four hours flight.”

“We were not on that other plane for four hours.” Lexa sighs, nausea allowing her a slight break.

Clarke laughs out loud when Lexa’s relief disappears quickly. She has had a hard time believing that Lexa, out of all people, had offered her plane tickets suddenly, just a few weeks ago.

She hadn’t understood the reason behind the gesture until she had looked at the destination. It was a small city near New York City, ignored from most people. It was the place where a small art gallery displayed pieces from independent artists. Most of them were unknown, but Clarke had a friend, Wells, who used to paint with her whenever he’d have time, and he was the owner of that small place. 

Wells Jaha has never been an artist, but a great business man he is. He has been Clarke’s long distance best friend for years. He always encouraged Clarke to follow her dreams, and when his parents had moved to the other side of the country, they both swore they’d never lose contact. Eight years later, they still spoke occasionally through Skype. Abby had kindly offered Clarke to visit him, but the blonde had refused, claiming she wanted to pay for this trip herself.

When Lexa had given her the tickets to that specific destination, Clarke had immediately wondered how her lover had known about it. The only time she’d mentioned wanting to go to any art gallery was when they had played 21 questions, months ago. She’d never thought Lexa would have remembered.

Clarke had then looked at the date on those tickets, and understood the whole reason behind this small break from their rushed lives. She, too, had been counting days since that fateful number one encounter.

There was no better way to celebrate.

“I still can’t believe Raven told you about that place, I didn’t even know she knew.” Clarke says.

“I think it’s best you do not speak to me right now.” Lexa’s shaking voice replies as the woman swallows slowly the wave of acid that threatens to surface.

“You’re doing great,” Clarke encourages, “just a few minutes and we’ll be there.”

“I don’t have a few minutes.”

“Drama queen.”

The plane comes in contact with the ground and slowly moves toward the arrival gate, much to Lexa’s relief. She wants to kiss the ground, lay on it and never get up. She has never appreciated the ground as much as she does now, and she already dreads the way back home.

Clarke is soon up and ready to leave the plane, while Lexa ungraciously stumbles out of her seat. When the blonde offers her hand, not before throwing her girlfriend a mocking look, Lexa doesn’t hesitate and grabs it strongly. They both slowly make their way out the plane. They’re only planning to stay for the weekend, and don’t need to retrieve any luggage other than the two small backpacks they brought with them on the plane.

Lexa difficultly makes her way out of the airport, helped by a teasing Clarke who swears not even Alzheimer could make her forget that moment. By the time they finally catch their bus, Lexa is feeling better to roll her eyes at Clarke. The green eyed woman refuses to hold her girlfriend’s hand until she gets an apology, which comes within five minutes, much to her satisfaction. She doesn’t even wait for Clarke to finish her ‘I’m sorry’ before clasping their hands together.

They’re both whipped.

The city is small, and with only a bus, they arrive downtown quickly. Its buildings are built in old ancient style. It looks like an historical town of some sort, like it has been preserved from the modern civilization. It feels like they’ve travelled back in time.

“I can’t believe we’re here. Are you feeling better?”

Lexa nods and gestures toward a coffee house.

“Hungry?” she asks. “Just because my stomach was hurting doesn’t mean I didn’t hear yours asking for food.”

“I can wait,” Clarke shakes her head while smiling. “Come on, the art gallery isn’t far, we can make it before it closes!”

Clarke’s enthusiasm is breaking laws, and Lexa can’t refuse her anything. A walk is more than welcomed after spending four hours sitting straight. The weight of their bags is light enough for them to carry them around.

“Are _you_ hungry?” the blonde frowns when she sees Lexa’s eyes moving toward the café again.

“I can wait.” Lexa repeats Clarke’s previous words. “Lead me.”

Clarke stares suspiciously at Lexa, but ultimately decides to let it go. She knows insisting won’t change anything. Lexa always prefers making Clarke’s interests a priority, no matter how many times the blonde insists on asking for the opposite.

“Have you been here before?” Lexa asks as they start walking in a specific direction, Clarke pulling on her hand eagerly.

“No, but Wells used to Skype me while he was on his way to work. I remember how it looks like.”

“That is reassuring.” Lexa frowns skeptically. “Last time you told me you remembered how ‘it looked,’ we spent the night at a gross motel because your car had no gas anymore.”

“Picking apples turned to a sex marathon, I never heard you complain about it,” the blonde winks.

Clarke makes them walk in a labyrinth of narrow streets, crossing random intersections, until they arrive in a particular district. Art is everywhere, and Lexa feels like she has stepped inside a painting itself.

They stare at the impressive gothic styled architecture, passing in front of many murals on their way. The murals are almost on every building, and they display splashes of colors, selling dreams to whoever stops to look at them. Clarke steals a couple of seconds to take pictures of Lexa while the taller woman isn’t watching. She feels that this place represents her. She feels safe within its walls, emotions spattered everywhere she looks, colors flashing to get her attention.

She gains energy simply by being here, and Lexa’s presence is a pleasant bonus.

She leads them toward a small alley, where festive music can be heard. An amateur band plays for the crowd that is walking on a pedestrian path, where artists from all styles present their works to the people.

It amazes Clarke, the variety of wonders she is introduced to. She sees origami sculptures, paintings of new modern genre, calligraphy, handmade jewelry, graffiti posters, wooden sculpted music instruments and even baked goods that smell like have just been teleported from heaven. What she originally thought to be a small path goes on for kilometers.

“I’m in love,” the blonde declares as she drags Lexa to each and every stand.

Lexa doesn’t even have a chance to answer before Clarke starts asking every possible art related question to each artist they meet. She watches in amazement as Clarke’s mind is taken hostage by the infinite number of stands. She’s fairly certain she can’t compete with the way Clarke’s blue eyes shine at the view of all the merchandise.

Until Clarke turns to face her with the brightest smile Lexa has ever seen.

Lexa also gets lost in the multiple worlds conveyed by the masterpieces in front of them. It isn’t really her main interest, but she feels the happiest, being there with Clarke. She wouldn’t exchange her place for anything. A breeze rises, and the smell of grilled meat reaches her, making her mouth waters. She didn’t want to admit it to Clarke because the blonde was so excited to finally arrive here, but she’s starving. Her stomach growls just loud enough for Clarke to turn at her with an amused look on her face.

“Hungry now?”

The artist doesn’t wait and wanders a couple stands farther, where she buys two burgers. She returns by Lexa’s side and they both devour their food. Lexa smiles as Clarke describes her thoughts. She can’t decide what is more adorable, Clarke being here right now, or Clarke herself.

“This is paradise,” Clarke says while swallowing the last piece of bread. “I didn’t believe Wells when he showed me this place the first time, because frankly, he’s brilliant, but not that brilliant in arts. But now? Now, I think I owe him an apology. I’d live here if I could. Homeless, in these streets, I wouldn’t even mind.”

She gulps the last drop of her water bottle.

“Ready to go?” She asks excitedly.

“Always, with you.” Lexa answers.

“You’re such a softie, you know that?”

Lexa doesn’t answer the rhetorical question. She follows Clarke in the maze once again. She has no idea where they’re going, and Clarke quickly takes the lead again, disappearing behind a corner as the crowd grows in density.

The law student looks around, confused. She curses in her head. So this is what happens when they stop holding hands to eat, she thinks. She walks toward the direction she saw Clarke disappears, only to bump into more people. She turns around and walks the opposite direction

She’s lost.

Lexa is about to turn the intersection when she is handed a small necklace with a shiny emerald on its middle. She looks up and her eyes meet strange gray ones that belong to a tall woman with pale blonde hair.

“A gift. They don’t do justice to your eyes though,” she winks.

Lexa looks quickly around, making sure the woman is truly speaking to her. She nods hesitantly, but refuses to take the jewelry. She rarely accepts gifts. It makes her feel like she owes something to the other person, and she hates it. She’d rather earn what she is offered, or promptly pay for it.

“Take it,” the artist smiles, “you don’t seem quite at your place here, maybe a souvenir will help.”

“I’m fine.” Lexa declines politely.

Gray eyes focus on her features. The stand is full of handmade necklaces of all colors, and many people stop to admire them. The woman is talented, even Lexa notices it.

“I insist. If not for the art, it’ll make you remember me.” She says suggestively.

The woman is forward and unafraid to speak her mind. She stands tall and interacts with ease with everyone who asks her about her pieces. While Lexa admits these are qualities, she is in no way interested.

“It is beautiful,” Lexa compliments, “but I can’t accept it.”

“Damn, and here I thought I had the perfect approach,” the artist bows her head. “It’s okay, I get it. If you’re not here for the art, what are you doing? It’s kind of a creative neighborhood, and you look like you don’t really know where you’re going. No offense.”

“I’m looking for an art gallery owned by someone named Wells. Could you tell me where it is?”

“Sure. Wells’ gallery is kind of famous around here. Maybe I can take you out sometimes, to one of his fancy evenings?”

“I’d rather not.” Lexa replies sharply, making the other girl’s smile falls slightly.

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” Clarke interrupts, suddenly back by Lexa’s side, a dark skinned man behind her.

The woman’s smile returns, this time, amused.

“Lucky girl. Hey Wells, this cutie was looking for you.”

The man nods gratefully, while Clarke still stares suspiciously at the other woman.

“This ‘cutie’ has a name,” Clarke says with a serious tone. “Come on, Lexa, you need to see Wells’ gallery, it’s magical!”

Her hand finds Lexa’s. Clarke looks up at the woman who has been talking to Lexa while doing so, a defiance look on her face.

“I get the message, blondie, no need to be so protective.” The woman laughs while she returns to her business, leaving the trio free to walk away. “Your threatening looks won’t work on me though, you should try and get better at it.”

They walk past her stand, Clarke’s hand slightly pulling at Lexa’s, under the weight of mocking emerald eyes. Wells guides them a few houses down, where the Exodus Art Gallery welcomes them.

Clarke had explained, in the plane, as an attempt to distract Lexa’s mind, that Wells named the gallery ‘Exodus’ because it was what he hoped art would make people feel. He wished art to bring all kind of people together, to lead them to a universe where impossibilities no longer existed. He thought he could move people’s hearts to better tomorrows, to unexplored lands. He dreamed of a world with no boundaries between reality and fantasy.

The inside of the gallery is small, but filled to its full capacity. The thing that strikes Lexa first is the way space is organized. Paintings and sculptures are displayed all around them, but also under their feet, as a solid glass floor protects them from the steps of the multiple visitors. The ceiling is also made of multiple tiny ceramic pieces, all coming together to form a giant picture of a deformed planet Earth. Every piece of ceramic has a tiny letter engraved in it. Some paintings have 3D effects, which Clarke explains is for disabled people to see the art in their own way.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who can transform the innocent Clarke Griffin into a jealous green monster,” Wells shakes Lexa’s hand once they are standing at the back of the room. “I’m Wells Jaha. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Lexa Woods. Jealous green monster?”

“Absolutely,” Wells snorts while Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’ve never seen Clarke’s face this way before, even when she had her first crush at seven, and immaturily threw pieces of paper at everyone who would approach the poor boy. I knew you couldn’t just be a friend, even when she tried to convince me otherwise. I practically already know you after everything she’s told me.”

 “Moving on, Wells?” Clarke slaps his shoulder playfully.

"Already? I've just met her!" Wells smiles playfully. "I still have a few tries to scare her."

"I am not easily scared," Lexa points out.

"I have no doubt about it, just doing my big brother's job. I might live far, but Clarke can't escape me that easily. You'll have to excuse Luna outside, she has no sense of privacy. She specializes in trading. She trades her creations rather than selling them. From what I've heard, it's not so crazy. You'd be surprised how easily she makes it. She's harmless, Clarke was worried for nothing."

He speaks with the confidence of a man who knows everyone from the neighborhood. His tone is reassuring, warm, and holds good intentions. Lexa can easily see why Clarke befriended him. His presence itself is a sign of calm, yet she knows she would have a lot to deal with if she ever hurt Clarke. She's sure she has never met a more protective crew than Clarke's friends.

"I was not worried," Clarke mumbles as she pokes his shoulder once again.

"Sure you weren't," Wells shrugs. “Is that why you went all James Bond-y when you noticed she wasn’t following you anymore?”

“Did not.” Clarke rolls her eyes as Lexa’s smile grows wider.

“Lexa is gone, where is she? I hope she didn’t get lost because that woman has no sense of orientation. I swear, Wells, if I find her harassing people again because she thinks I’ve been abducted, I will handcuff her to me! One day, I found her bowing in front of someone for answers. Do you even realize…” Wells mimics Clarke’s voice while tragically waving his arms around.

“I did not say that!” Clarke shouts as she punches him, harder this time.

"You so did,” Wells starts to argue, but changes his mind when he sees death threats in a ravaging blue storm. “So Lexa, what do you think of this place? From what I've been told, you're not an artist?"

"It is an interesting place. Althought I admit I wouldn't have come here by myself, Clarke wanted to visit you. I am starting to wonder why, judging by the amount of animosity between the two of you." Lexa's tiny grin appears on the corner of her mouth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've only been hit twice in the last two minutes. Not to mention the countless times I've almost died in elementary school. You should have seen the violent beast. Did you know she once threw her pencil at the teacher for not allowing her to draw on her desk? She was punished by not being allowed to draw for the rest of that day, and her mom had to come and take her home because she pouted too much," Wells remembers. "I hope my gallery will be enough to spark your interest. If you have any question, even about Clarke here, don't hesitate."

Lexa nods and tries to hide a wider smile. She wonders how many childhood stories this man could tell her about her girlfriend. She wants to hear them all, asks detailed questions, and gets buried under the layers of history that forged Clarke into the person she is today. She wants to learn everything and anything about Clarke. She will never get enough of the blonde woman.

"Come on Lexa, Wells annoys me already, I'll show you the gallery. He had time to explain to me the current exposition while you were busy flirting back."

"I would never!" Lexa shouts back at Wells as she is quickly being pulled away by a teasing Clarke.

They walk toward the entrance because they must see the exposition from the beginning to the end. There's a suggested order of presentation, and they really don’t have to follow it, but Clarke insists, and Lexa would never pretend she knows more about art than the woman beside her. The blonde points toward a few paintings here and there, and Lexa is quick to follow the pattern.

The theme is "first to last time”, and each artist only has two pieces exposed, mostly paintings of all sorts.

Each of them represents the first drawing the artist made, opposed to their most recent one. A few sculptures are also presented, and they follow the same theme. Each piece of art is paired with a single sentence, starting by “what if”, followed by the age and name of the artist.

By 'first', Clarke explains, it does not mean their first piece as an artist, but their very first one, the oldest they kept from their younger years. Children drawings are taped to the various materials that compose one wall of the gallery, wood, metal and plastic, in an amateur way. Professional paintings and others are neatly exposed in many expensive layouts. The contrast is flagrant.

They follow arrows on the ground, which are first traced in Crayola pen, and soon transform to fluid paint brushes.

The first one is a cute one, and Lexa soon realizes that it won’t be the same situation for all. It’s a small napkin, on which is drawn a sun and a few amateur lines that represent birds. The caption reads “what if the sun never went to sleep?”, and Lexa finds herself reflecting deeply about that simple sentence.

The professional painting that follows is a mix of colors representing the sky, red, purple, and pink, twirling together in clouds and darker wind currents. Lexa can almost feel the air blowing on her face as she reads the caption, “what if gravity didn’t pull us down?”

They both share little comments about the pieces, for Clarke’s brain is running around all the technical aspects, the way it was painted, the colors chosen, the way the lines are traced, while Lexa’s mind is digging through the philosophical aspects of the questions.

Some questions are related to the space and time aspects, and some put the oldest worries in history in evidence.

 _“What if we had the power to choose our time of death?”_ by a seventy years old.

 _“What if snow was cotton candy?”_ by a four years old.

 _“What If we couldn’t hide our lies?”_ by a thirty-three years old.

 _“What if I were a dog?”_ by a ten years old.

 _“What if hearts were unbreakable?”_ by a twenty six years old.

 _“What if the war in my country never made mama leave?”_ a nine years old wonders.

 _“What if the war in my head stopped?”_ a forty seven years old asks.

 _“What if I had all the puppies in the world?_ a five years old wishes.

 _“What if I had all the money in the world?_ ” a fifty one years old pleads.

Others hit harder, in their rawness and honesty. They come from what society would call damaged people, but Lexa prefers to name them warriors.

“What if my dad stopped hitting me?” from a seven years old is accompanied by “what if I still had custody of my children” from the same man, twenty years later.

“What if the white man stopped existing?” from an ancient slave, is followed by “what if we didn’t have skin at all?”

“What if I had all the knowledge in the universe?” from a curious seven years old, is coupled with a blank sheet, on which is simple written “what if I remembered who I were?” from an eighty seven years old.

“What if I was born a girl?” is paired with “what if I was able to feel normal?”

Some scars are permanently tattooed on people, and Lexa finds her heart stops at one question in particular.

“What if you don’t come back?” from an older artist, who had never drawn until age twenty two, is followed by “what if you came back?”

It is the only painting that has a longer text. The first painting illustrates a single wave, with a single man looking at the ocean from a cliff. The second one portrays the same man, with what appears to be his wife and children, looking at the sea from the same edge. It is explained that the man witnessed his first love boarding a plane that ended up never being found again. He has been sentenced to live his life, without knowing the truth, always hesitating to start over, to move on, until he finally decided to do so.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice sings to her ears, bringing her back to the solid reality. “Look.”

 Lexa’s eyes focus on a large white shirt pinned to the wall. It’s dirty, and full of lines of different colors, but she can discern a pattern of stars and planets. It looks like a third years old drew on someone’s shirt, and when she reads the little card next to the shirt, she is pleased to learn her intuition is right.

 _“What if home was the whole universe?”_ three years old, Clarke Griffin.

“Then, judging by those abstract lines, we would have a very strange shaped home,” Lexa playfully answers the question as her girlfriend steps closer to push her lightly.

“Believe it or not, my dad wore it many times at work,” she says proudly. “He said it was the most beautiful universe he’d ever seen.”

“He must have been talking about your eyes,” Lexa lets out shyly.

 Clarke accepts the compliment, and pities the embarrassing way her girlfriend looks at the ground.

“Look at the other one.”

Lexa finally decides to look up after many encouragements by Clarke, who assures her that line was not something to be shy about.

Green eyes meet a small piece of paper, simply taken from a notebook, and Lexa’s breath stops. She’s looking at herself. She’s looking at herself, sleeping peacefully, like the world can’t reach her with its corruption. Her eyes are closed, and her posture isn’t stiffened anymore. It’s relaxed. It’s comfortable. It’s a representation of someone who has no worries haunting her anymore.

The level of intimacy shared in this simple drawing makes Lexa’s heart bursts with an inexplicable joy. She looks safe, hair partly over her shoulders, hands resting peacefully on her stomach, like her body knows that Clarke is silently protecting her. She has a thousand questions on mind, the first one being, how did she manage to look so beautiful under Clarke’s ink.

“I told you I’d draw you someday,” Clarke sighs, overwhelmed by the same feelings. “You were so gorgeous that morning, and I had a simple pen, but I couldn’t resist. I sent it to Wells as soon as I finished it. I knew you’d see it someday, I just didn’t know it would be now.”

“How? I look so…”

“I didn’t do anything, it’s all because of you.”

“Is this really how you see me?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and reads the small caption, almost scared of what it says.

_“What if home weren’t a place, but a person?”_

“It doesn’t do justice to the way I see you, not even close. I’m not talented enough for that,” Clarke admits.

The blonde almost falls apart when Lexa pulls her in a tight embrace and brings their bodies close. Lexa tries, really tries, to convey all her feelings through that simple touch, and Clarke understands every single unspoken word.

“Then, you are home.” Lexa whispers, answering the question. “You will always be home.”

They remain in the same position, hands gripping clothes tightly and heads buried in the other’s shoulder, and the world stops for a moment. This is their moment, and the other visitors let them be.

When they finally move apart, Lexa’s eyes shine with discreet tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. She holds them back, because she won’t cry, not here. But her soul is bleeding from the way her love for Clarke resonates, echoes in every possible way. It’s the kind of love that stabs her from the inside, pierces through every atom of her body, hurting, comforting, and healing all at once. It’s a different kind of cancer, one that makes her ill from bliss. It slashes her sanity and stomps on all logical thoughts. It eliminates all trace of consistency and rationality. It defies every single law of the universe.

Over the months, their love has never stopped growing. It has never reached its limit, and they both believe it never will. Lexa is almost afraid the weight of those feelings will crush her alive, their intensity absorbing her spirit.

“You don’t mind having your face being seeing by so many strangers, do you?” Clarke smirks.

“It’s a bit too late to ask for my opinion, Clarke.” Lexa notes.

“I know. But I can ask Wells to remove it, if you want.”

“Leave it. The world deserves to see your talent.”

“It deserves to know your existence.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, laughter in their eyes.

“We’ve become that annoying couple, haven’t we? Raven’s right, isn’t she?” Clarke asks.

“Anya would agree as well.” Lexa nods.

“I don’t mind.” Clarke absently says as she starts walking toward the next piece, quickly followed by Lexa. “Do you?”

She is answered by silence, but she feels Lexa’s hand squeezing hers. She thinks if it’s possible to fall in love with a single touch, the way their hands fit together is the one.

They keep walking, Clarke commenting the technical aspects, Lexa questioning the immensity of the possibilities. Without even realizing it, they complete each other’s sentences, and harmonize their thoughts.

They reach the end of the exposition, and Lexa is handed a single piece of ceramic. Before she even has time to wonder what it means, Clarke points to the ceiling, where the image of the planet earth looks down to them.

“Each person is part of our planet. You add your own part, and it influences everything.” She simply says.

It’s a simple, but profound concept, and Lexa has a very formal look on her face when she adds hers to the mosaic, much to Clarke’s amusement.

They walk out, Clarke promising to come back the next morning before their departure to have breakfast with her best friend. Wells insists on giving his number to Lexa, hinting hilarious childhood stories to come. The blonde almost considers stealing Lexa’s phone, but stops herself. There isn’t much she hasn’t told Lexa, and she has nothing to hide.

They breathe the fresh air, tainted by paint and ink smells, as they wander around the neighborhood, looking for a restaurant to satisfy their hunger. 

“Thank you for coming here,” Clarke says as she guides them inside a cozy Italian classic restaurant. “Thank you for inviting me. Let me pay for that dinner.”

Lexa nods. They usually don’t argue on little things like that. They both offer to pay every now and then.

“You’ll have the whole night to thank me,” Clarke winks. “Better make the best out of that celebration weekend, right?”

Lexa’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, but she doesn’t refute the words. She nods quickly, avoiding the glances the waitress is sending them, having obviously heard what was just said. She considers hiding behind the menu, but this is a rather expensive place, and she would rather not attract attention any more than they already are. She hears Clarke chuckling at her and kicks her under the table as revenge.

“You’re such a kid,” the blonde mouths, bubbles of happiness bursting in her eyes.

Lexa dismisses the embarrassment. She will make Clarke pay later, she is not rushed. She smiles when she notices Clarke’s eyes on her, always reading her mind, always seeking answers. They are painted by curiosity, affection, and the deepest shade of love she has ever seen.

“The things I will do to you tonight will prove you wrong.” Lexa whispers.

Clarke’s eyes immediately turn a few shades darker, and Lexa laughs out loud once more. She wants to spend every single moment of her life being looked at by those sapphire eyes.

***

Clarke wants to bang her head on her desk until she is brain dead. She tears another page of her notebook and throws it away with a frustrated groan. She has been staring at a blank page for too long, and she doesn’t care if she wastes paper. The planet will be fine for a few more years, it’s not like the apocalypse is knocking at her door right now.

She can’t believe she has accepted to help Octavia write a story for her English class. Clarke has skills in the whole literature field, but it doesn’t mean she has inspiration to help the poor Blake woman to do college related work. However, she owes her friend, and she can’t back down now.

She doesn’t have the root of an idea to help her friend. She doesn’t even feel like Octavia is listening to her ideas at all. She feels like she has no ink to spill, no story to tell. She’s about to give up when she hears Lexa walks in her room, in the casual way she does since she got a key to Clarke’s sanctuary.

“Nobody listens to me in this damn house!” Clarke snaps. “Octavia just keeps repeating that I have to try, because she’s supposedly trying harder! Whatever I say is not even heard!”

Lexa stands still in the middle of the room, unsure where to stand in the eye of the storm.

“I hear you,” Lexa says as the storm passes quietly.

The mere sight of her girlfriend makes ideas bloom in the blonde’s head, images of beauty and peace and serenity. Clarke breathes again, inspired by the sounds Lexa makes and the sweetest scents brought to her by Lexa’s presence. Lexa sits on the bed, eyes full of curiosity, and Clarke starts writing.

Clarke was a writer without words, a story nobody heard, until Lexa came and sat by her side.

***

Clarke is stuck in line with Lexa. They’re waiting to buy tickets for a play Clarke really wants to see. There’s a long line in front of them, and it’s moving at a snail’s pace. Tickets are limited, and the blonde is pacing in tiny circles as she waits for people to move.

“I have to see them. You don’t understand how much I want it.” She whispers in a raspy voice.

She can’t speak too loud, the remaining of a cold still torturing her throat.

“I know, Clarke. You have been talking about it for two weeks,” Lexa smiles.

The emerald eyed woman is unable to hold Clarke in place. She chuckles at the childish behavior and shakes her head at the sight. The line moves forward, and Clarke’s grin gets wider, struggling not to move past anyone, her blonde hair jumping at the rhythm of her bouncing body.

When, twenty minutes later, the voice of the selling organization director echoes through a microphone, announcing that all tickets have been sold, Clarke’s eyes fill with frustration. She needs those tickets more than life, and when she sees a couple walking away with what appears to be the last two tickets, she runs for her life toward them, leaving a confused Lexa behind.

When Clarke opens her mouth to scream at the couple to wait, to tell them she’d give them all her money for those tickets, but no sound leaves her throat. The blonde sighs in frustration, as she realizes the illness has not left her body entirely yet. Of all the timings life could’ve chosen to take her voice away, this is the worse one.

She gestures tragically at Lexa, who is jogging toward her with a tiny laugh following her. Clarke points at the couple with sad puppy eyes, and Lexa cannot resist. The sight of her girlfriend, the combination of illness, red nose and inability to speak out, melts her heart. The tallest girl raises her voice over all the conversations going on around them. She speaks like a commander, and Clarke smiles at how familiar this tone sounds.

“How much for these tickets?”

The two people hear Lexa’s clear voice right on time, and Clarke proudly points at her girlfriend, showing the crowd how perfect she thinks Lexa is.

She was a voice without any sound, until Lexa stood tall by her side.

***

Clarke is exhausted. Today is her father’s death anniversary, and it is also the only day in the year when she allows herself to be truly, deeply, entirely, wrapped by sadness. She dries the few tears that dare roll on her cheeks and empties the tissue box before throwing it against the opposite wall in frustration. The wall she’s sitting against is hard on her back, but she doesn’t mind the pain. It gives her something to keep her in this reality.

She’s not even twenty five years old, and despite youth flowing through her veins, she only feels like life weights too hard on her shoulders, like she has lived a thousand years, when she thinks about her father.

She wishes she could turn off her feelings. She wishes missing someone didn’t hurt as much as loving them. She wishes she could erase her memories temporarily, until they stop hurting so much, until they don’t have the power to tear her soul apart anymore. She dreams about future days without pain, without salted water soiling her face. She whispers silent apologies for all the things she didn’t say, all the things she wishes she had told her father before it became too late, all the things she was afraid to say.

She hears the door opens as Lexa walks in, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and a new box of tissues in the other.

“I don’t want to go.” Clarke mumbles, voice broken by the avalanche of emotions.

Lexa stares down silently at her girlfriend, offering her the box. She lets herself sit next to Clarke, her back hitting the wall silently as they both remain in the darkness.

“I just remember the way it ended. I can’t focus on anything else,” Clarke whispers after a few minutes, breaking the fragile world of glass they hide themselves in. “All the ways I didn’t say goodbye. All the ways it ended too soon.”

The pull of gravity is not enough to keep her mind in her body, and Clarke feels she is losing herself in grief and loss. Her soul is being ripped apart, dragged to hell, and refuses to come back to its rightful place.

“Tell me about your favorite moments with him.” Lexa offers, allowing her lover’s head to rest on her shoulder.

It takes a few more minutes before Clarke finally opens her mouth, remembering tales of memorable days, in which her family was invincible, not yet raped by the ugliness of life.

Slowly, her tears stop tracing invisible lines on her face, and her laugh returns as she recalls the numerous ways her father would make a fool of himself. The air stops being poisonous to her lungs, and her heart rate slowly lowers to one that doesn’t make her suffocate internally.

She opens her heart to every childhood memory, every minute spent in her father’s arms, allowing Lexa down the memory lane as well. When she finishes, hours have passed, but she doesn’t feel confined between the four walls of her room anymore.

“Let’s go,” she clasps her hand with Lexa’s.

When they reach the cemetery, Clarke’s tears have been exchanged for a small peaceful smile.

She was a childhood already bruised with age, until Lexa brought her remedy for her sorrows.

***

Clarke throws her hand in the air in desperation. She has a painting to finish for the next morning, and she can’t find where she placed her painting set. It’s not complicated, really, she only has to draw a few elements in the background. She could actually skip that step, but her art would lack depth, and she would spend the rest of the month complaining about unfinished business.

She has made a mess in the apartment. Raven and Octavia will probably want to murder her when they come home. Clarke has even searched the bathroom, knowing very well that there were no chances for her paintbrushes to be there, unless someone deliberately wanted to mess with her head. She has searched everywhere, and she’s starting to wonder if she isn’t dreaming at the moment. She hopes it’s a nightmare, and that she will wake up soon.

She’s an artist. She can make beauty out of nothing, out of dust, and yet, without colors and paintbrushes, without pen and pencils, without any ink to use, she is nothing. She is helpless. She has not reached the point of painting with her blood yet, and she has no intention of ever doing that.

 It is nearly two in the morning, for she is always more inspired at night, and she blesses whoever looks after her for the absence of her roommates. The only problem is that, it is the middle of the night, and therefore, she has no way of finding what she needs. She downs the remaining of her cold coffee and sighs. She’s wide awake, and she can only stare at the half finished canvas.

She’s about to call Lexa when a soft knock at the door makes her jump. She looks around her, searching for something that isn’t there. She walks nervously to the kitchen and grabs the first knife she finds. She won’t take any chances to open a door in the middle of the night when she’s all alone.

“Yes?” She asked through the door.

“Clarke.”

Clarke drops the knife on the nearest table as she sighs in relief. She opens the door to the sight of an exhausted looking Lexa, hair messing around her head in a wild but fluid style. Her eyes are marked by fatigue, and she even wears the top of her pajamas. The sight is enough for Clarke to send her brain back to a panic mode.

“What is going on? Is everything alright? Are you hurt?” She asks with a worried voice.

Lexa blinks once, fighting to keep the sleep away. She struggles to keep her balance as she hands her girlfriend a large bag, packed with paintbrushes and material of all sorts.

“I woke up to drink water and saw this on my couch. You must have forgotten it yesterday.”

Clarke’s eyes widen.

“You came here at two in the morning to give them back?”

“You’re always inspired at night,” Lexa shrugs as if there is nothing exceptional in making special deliveries under the moon’s protection.

“Come in.”

The blonde invites Lexa inside, and soon enough, they both are safe in the intimacy of Clarke’s room, the only light coming from outside.

“You’re amazing, you know?” Clarke whispers, looking away from her art for one second, as Lexa snuggles a bit more in the middle of a sea of pillows.

Lexa doesn’t answer, barely makes any noise beside a light moan of comfort. Soon enough, she’s travelling through the land of dreams as Clarke’s hands perform miracles on her canvas. She adds a forest of wonders in the background of two beautifully drawn haunting green eyes looking straight ahead. When she is done, she stares fondly at the woman sleeping in her bed, head poking from under the covers

She was an artist without paint, until Lexa showed her the essence of art.

***

Lexa has never been more nervous in her entire life. She just finished a phone call with Raven, who informed her Clarke was on her way back to their apartment. She looks at the dressed table behind her, takes a few candles and lights them up, illuminating the apartment.

They had moved together about two months ago. Today marked the second anniversary of their meeting at Grounder. That little trip had made them realized that there was no such thing as “too fast” or “too slow”, or whichever society wanted to label them with. There was no rhythm that had to be dictated by the world. There were only them being ready to take their relationship a step further.

It had been a disaster at first, each of them having their own habits, but they had made compromises, and everything had been sealed with a steamy make out session. It had been about to go a lot more passionate, but Raven, Anya and Octavia had all decided to visit them to celebrate. The fact that Clarke already had half her clothes removed hadn’t seemed to surprise any of them.

They had shared more love between those walls than any other place, they would proudly say to whoever wasn’t sick of their affection. They didn’t fight often, but when they did, they stubbornly refused to speak to each other, letting the tension explodes eventually in a harsh, angry, lustful, make up sex night.

 They laughed every day, and smiled whenever their eyes would connect for a few seconds. They made each other breakfast, and Clarke would often come home with pizza to go with their midnight talks. She once convinced Lexa to have ice cream for breakfast, claiming summer was too hot to let this opportunity pass.

Paintings were hanged on every wall, and tables were hidden by Lexa’s books. Lexa would sometimes come home with a new painting set, and Clarke would kiss her deeply for long minutes, pressing her against the closest wall. The blonde also had a wall, similar to the one she had in her old bedroom, on which she would paint different pictures every few days. Lately though, she only painted Lexa’s profile, with the same infinite care she always had when she portrayed the woman.

It was their home.

Lexa flinches when she hears the lock of the door. She struggles to stay in place. She had spent the whole day getting ready, and now that the evening is finally there, she feels that everything is out of place. If she could, she would stop time, and move everything elsewhere, blow out the candles, and pretend to be sleeping so Clarke could wake her up with the tender of kisses.

She mentally reprimands herself when she realizes the number of candles she actually used. There are way too many, and she starts to think Clarke will believe she wanted to test their fire alarm system. It might be eight o’clock already, it doesn’t mean the sun is completely gone from the sky.

She quickly hides the two pieces of papers she has in her hands, at the exact same moment Clarke walks in, holding various bags in her hands. The blonde woman throws them on the floor and quickly removes her jacket, fiddling with the zipper.

“I swear Raven has the most stupid ideas sometimes. Painting on canvas is a thing, but on four walls of the same room, including the ceiling, it’s impossible to do that in a few days. Who changes their mind four times? Who? Raven, that’s who! I understand she wants it to be a surprise for whenever Anya decides to move in my old room, but she’s asking too-”

Clarke leaves her mouth open at the sight of her girlfriend standing nervously in a room illuminated by candles. There are many of them, and it is almost as if all the lights of their apartment were turn on. She briefly wonders if her lover has a secret obsession with such objects. She really hopes not. She glances at the classy decorated table, plates filled with tasty wonders, before focusing her eyes on the shy silhouette waiting for her reaction.

It takes her less than a minute to figure out what made Lexa prepare such an evening, and when she does, she hides her face in her hands.

“I’m the worse girlfriend,” she mutters, “I totally forgot the date.”

Today marks the two years anniversary of their first meeting. They had decided to celebrate their encounter at the bar, despite how unexpected it turned out to be, rather than the moment they officially got together. It was easier for the both of them to put a date on that moment, rather than navigate through the amount of ambiguity their history hides.

When Clarke removes her hands from her face, she directly faces Lexa, who has moved closer to her. Green eyes light up with a sight of mockery, and a tiny smile threatens to appear on the corner of her mouth.

“You have paint on your face.” Lexa murmurs as she bends to kiss Clarke in the lightest possible way.

Their lips always stay together for seconds too long, and when they finally need to let air come in, Lexa smiles softly at the blonde.

“I know you have been busy. Tonight, you’re going to relax. I went to get food from TonDC, it has been a while.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke sighs. “I haven’t been here of all day, and you got all of this ready, and I didn’t even call! I’m sorry.”

Lexa’s hand is soft against Clarke’s cheek when she brings their lips together again for a deeper kiss.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Lexa whispers between them. “Now come here, dinner is served.”

“Stop being perfect when I’m covered in paint and probably smells bad,” Clarke chuckles.

“Stop being perfect when I’m a nervous mess,” Lexa replies with the calmest voice, to which Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Can I go take a shower first? I feel like shit, and everything is so beautiful,” Clarke laughs.

Lexa comes close to offer to join her in the shower, but she knows she should still clean up a little. Those candles are starting to look a bit too much, and she’s surprised Clarke hasn’t said anything about them. She nods, and the look Clarke sends her makes her weak in the knees.

She hears the water running and blows a few candles out, letting only a few of them surrounding the room in a quiet, calm atmosphere. The plates are kept warm in the oven, and she sighs when she realizes the only thing left to do is wait for Clarke. She paces in the living room again, waiting for what seems like forever until Clarke finally emerges, water still dripping on the wooden floor, not caring at all about this.

“It smells amazing,” she embraces Lexa from behind and puts her head on the tallest girl’s shoulder.

“You’re making me wet,” Lexa replies humorlessly.

“You like that,” Clarke sticks her tongue out.

Lexa doesn’t answer, for she is pulled in a hard kiss, and pressed against the counter with a loud bump. It slightly hurts her lower back, but the green eyed woman is not about to complain. Tongues battle for dominance as Clarke pushes her body harder and slips a hand through Lexa’s hair. Lexa’s moans echoes in the emptiness as she feels every inch of her body react to the contact.

Closer.

She needs to be closer. Clarke’s shampoo smells delightful, and all trace of dinner is gone from her mind. She feels the blonde smiles during their kiss as one of her girlfriend’s hand travels to her thigh, caressing it up and down. She digs her fingers into Clarke’s back when she feels a leg slips between hers. It takes only a few seconds for Lexa to be a whole other kind of wet, and her toes curl when images of all the possibilities fill her mind.

She shivers at their proximity and is about to allow herself to be pulled up on the counter to be touched right where she needs it, to satisfy the growing desire she feels inside, when she feels her girlfriend slightly pull away.

“You like that,” Clarke repeats with a husky voice, barely separating their mouths. “But I’m hungry, and while I wouldn’t mind eating you, I need real food.”

It takes a whole ten minutes for Lexa to react and join a smirking Clarke sitting already with food in her mouth.

“I’m real food,” Lexa mumbles under her breath.

“I’m not in the mood for cannibalism.”

“Tease,” Lexa groans as she takes her seat with the most painful expression on her face.

“You also like that,” Clarke shrugs as she digs in her plate. “Those are better than an orgasm anyway.”

“Be careful what you’re saying.”

“You’ll have to prove me wrong.”

Lexa swallows an awfully large bite and almost chokes right away. She thinks of all the things she could do on that table and regrets setting it on the first place. She should have just waited and welcomed Clarke in a different way.

They eat while sharing small chat, discussing their respective days. Lexa almost chokes, again when Clarke shares stories from her adventures with Raven and Octavia, the three musketeers always up to no good. She forces herself not to laugh when she learns Raven “accidently” made Clarke trip face first, colliding with a fresh painted wall.

She promises Clarke to make Raven pay, without telling the blonde that she actually owes the mechanic for keeping her girlfriend away from home for so long. She makes sure to keep that part locked in her mind for a little longer. She’s sure Clarke will not mind once she finds out her reasons.

She tells Clarke about her day as well. She makes an effort to transform it in the most boring day of her life, in which she certainly did not freak out about the evening, in which she certainly did not burn her first attempt at dinner, in which she certainly did not almost cut her finger off in her second attempt at dinner, and in which she certainly did not yell at Ton DC’s poor waitress when she asked for a meal to be ready in a few minutes deadline.

It’s routine.

It’s comfortable.

It’s all both Lexa and Clarke have been waiting for their whole life; something steady, something safe, something that doesn’t make them want to get drunk on a Monday night. It’s a cocoon of familiarity and discovery at the same time. It’s always transforming, merging as they reach new steps in their relationship, yet the base remains the same, solid, strong, holding them together against all kind of earthquakes. It’s their world.

“I can’t believe you did all this. It’s wonderful. Did we really need so many candles though?” Clarke asked once their plates have been put away.

Lexa’s pink cheeks come back, and the blonde’s crystal laughs fill the room as she finally joins their fingers, caressing Lexa’s with her thumb.

“It’s been two years,” Clarke continues after a few seconds of silence, “and I still can’t believe I found you.”

“I should be the one saying that.”

They get lost in each other’s eyes, the way they always do when words can’t convey the depth of their feelings. Their pupils dilate, and sparkles appear in their eyes within seconds. They both struggle to keep their sight focused on the other’s eyes, and their willpower flinches whenever they glance toward lips. Blue meets green. Time stops, universes collide, like it always does, like it has always done since their first meeting.

“I have something for you,” Lexa says with the softest voice.

She gets up and retrieves the two pieces of paper she had put away earlier. They are rolled separately, and held in place only by a delicate turquoise ribbon. Lexa is anxious, and almost drops them. She fiddles with them, struggles to not leave any wrinkles. She doesn’t know why she is feeling so stressed. Lexa made it as simple as she could, and as meaningful as she could think of, without it being too extravagant. She knows Clarke would not have it any other way. Those restrictions were tricky to respect, and she still thinks something could have been improved, but there is no way she is going to change her mind right now.

She takes a deep breath.

“It’s not much,” she murmurs.

Clarke squeezes her hand lightly. She doesn’t want much. She didn’t even expect the dinner to be so sweet, and caring. She didn’t expect anything actually, she simply wants Lexa by her side.

She delicately takes the first offered parchment-like roll of paper. She brushes her fingertips on the length of the ribbon, making Lexa trembles from fear and anticipation.

“It might be a bad idea.” Lexa suddenly declares while reaching for the gift, only to have Clarke slaps her hand away.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

The light of the few candles illuminates the blonde’s profile in an enchanting way, and Lexa’s eyes find themselves focused on pink lips while their owner slowly unroll the first part of the gift. Lexa slightly purses her lips, waiting for the verdict.

It’s a drawing, and Clarke’s smile is all it takes for Lexa to breathe again.

It portrays the blonde, sitting on the roof of their apartment building, gaze focused on the sky. Shades of blue ascend from the roof, shooting toward the edge of the universe, circling Clarke like she is part of the infinity as well. Her blonde hairs seem to be moving in harmony with the wind, and a tiny smile is drawn on her face. The lines are blurry, traces of hesitation being noticeable at some point, but Clarke has never seen anything more beautiful, beside Lexa herself.

“What if you were my whole universe?” Clarke reads the single line written in a beautiful curving calligraphy.

Lexa fiddles nervously with her free hand, passing it through her hair a few times. She made this. She secretly took a photograph of Clarke while the blonde wasn’t looking, and decided to draw a small gift following the same theme of the art gallery they visited a year ago exactly. She struggled with colors, never satisfied with the way none of them seemed to do her girlfriend justice. She hated the way she never could hold her pen and paintbrushes steady, the way her hands shook whenever she wanted to trace the lines of Clarke’s face.

She is no artist, but Clarke is, and Lexa wanted to try.

“Lexa…” Clarke opens and closes her mouth, but no words seem to escape.

She is left speechless, looking at the physical representation of Lexa’s affections for her. She knows how Lexa would never call herself an artist, how she dreads the simplest of doodles on napkins at restaurants. She knows Lexa would only hold a pen to write notes or draw laws related figures. The fact that Lexa _drew_ this leaves Clarke wondering what she ever did to deserve someone like her.

“Thank you,” Clarke barely lets out, eyes filled with shadows of tears, making the blue of her pupils more brilliant than ever.

Lexa nods, like she always does when she isn’t sure what to say, and hands the second piece of paper.

She feels her heart pumping blood at the speed of light, and adrenaline threatens to make her lose her sanity.

She feels this is it. This is the moment of truth. This is the moment she will remember for her entire life, for every single day of her existence.

She hopes she isn’t making a mistake, then rolls her eyes at herself. This is not a mistake. This is certitude.

 Clarke’s teasing smile appears on her face as she gently unfolds the paper.

“You hate drawing and you made a second one? Who would have thought you’d turn into such a sap?” She winks.

Her smile disappears as fast as it appeared, when she discovers the second drawing.

It’s the same as the first one, same hesitant lines and perfect imperfections in the technique, saved for a few exceptions. Clarke is still looking at the sky, sitting peacefully on the roof of a big house this time. The color twirling around her is turquoise, as Lexa is sitting next to her, green and blue mixing in a twirling symphony. They are portrayed as older than they are at the moment, wisdom in their eyes, hands clasped strongly together.

Clarke lets out a tiny gasp when she notices the single caption, and the rings drawn on their hands.

“What if I wanted to come home to you for the rest of my life?” Clarke breathlessly reads in a hush tone, lips trembling and hands threatening to tear the poor piece of paper apart.

When she glances back to Lexa, she is faced with her girlfriend holding her hand open, a single ring resting in her palm.

“Clarke. I am terrible with words, and awful at drawing. I tried to convey my feelings, the way you did a year ago and before, but this is all I could do, try. There is one thing I would never wish to try, and that is, to live without you. I want my life to be shared with yours. I want my memories to be yours as well. I want my happiness to include yours. I want to spend my life by your side, because you’re the one who makes me feel alive.”

Lexa doesn’t ask a question. She hasn’t even prepared a long speech, only the few sentences she just whispered, half hidden by darkness. The words make no sense to Clarke, and at the same time, they are all she has been waiting for to see clearly.

The blonde wants to cry, but tears won’t fall down. She wants to scream, to yell, to declare to the entire universe that this is the woman she is so deeply in love with, but her mouth won’t open. She wants to embrace the life out of her nemesis, but she is paralyzed on her seat, eyes wide open, looking at the ring.

Lexa can already see the answer in Clarke’s eyes. She has been seeing the answer for a long time now. She has seen it whenever they woke up next to each other and moved a little closer. She has seen it whenever she would come home and Clarke would welcome her with the brightest smile of them all. She has seen it in the way she would anticipate Clarke’s car to return to their parking space at the end of the day. She has seen it in the way she would laugh openly with Clarke’s friends whenever they would meet, in their shared and undeniable complicity.

She has seen it in the simple ways they communicate their love. She has seen it in the way they know each other’s habits, in the way they complete each other’s worlds, in the way they balance each other’s life.

When Clarke finally moves from her chair, their lips collide and their souls merge together.

When they barely move a few millimeters apart, Lexa cannot fill her lungs with enough air to survive as Clarke whispers “I love you’s” on her lips, sealing every one of them by a kiss.

When the ring falls from Lexa’s hand and hits the ground, they don’t move apart to retrieve it.

When it rolls under the table, they’re too busy battling for dominance to hear the way it hides in a corner.

When Lexa pulls Clarke on top of said table, never separating their lips, carefully putting the drawings away, the ring is long forgotten.

They don’t bother worrying about it, as the table shakes under the explosion of their urges.

They have forever to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this has been fun to write. And by fun I mean, it has been a while since I'd finish a multi chapters story! I hope you guys enjoyed it :)
> 
> The ocean painting from the art gallery was partly inspired by "To The Sea" by Seafret. 
> 
> The Clarke little drabbles paragraphs were inspired by "Dear True Love" by Sleeping At Last, which is also a song that would fit the ending of that story.
> 
> Check them out, they're great songs.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this. I will probably come back with new stuff.
> 
> May we meet again :D Or come to talk on twitter @McEvilQueen


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